IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■so    ^^ 


I— 

2.2 


M 

1.8 


U    IIIIII.6 


V] 


<^ 


^^ 


>^, 


-(S^ 


o 


/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


4\ 


\ 


iV^ 


^9> 


V 


o^ 


'r\* 


^p 


m 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


W^ 


Tachnical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notas  tachniquas  at  bibiiographiquas 


The  Instituta  has  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  bast 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturas  of  this 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua, 
which  may  alter  any  of  tha  images  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


□    Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  da  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagie 


□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurda  et/ou  pelliculde 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


D 


D 
D 


D 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartas  giographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


D 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relii  avac  d'autres  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrde  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdas 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte. 
mais,  lorsqua  cela  dtait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6x6  filmdas. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires; 


That 
toth 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  la  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  4t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithoda  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


n 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  rastaurdas  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxe< 
Pages  ddcolories,  tachetdes  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditachdes 

Showthroughy 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualit^  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materia 
Comprend  du  material  suppl^mentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seula  Edition  disponible 


n~|  Pages  damaged/ 

I      i  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

r~7|  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I      I  Pages  detached/ 

r~T|  Showthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I      I  Only  edition  available/ 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieilemant 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  4t6  filmies  6  nouveau  da  facon  6 
obtanir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Thai 
poss 
of  th 
fiimii 


Orlgi 

begli 

theli 

slon, 

othei 

first 

slon, 

or  fill 


Thai 
shall 
TINl 
whic 

Mapi 
diffa 
entir 
begii 
right 
requi 
metfi 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 

10X  ■'fX  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


y  I  I 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Dougias  Library 
Queen's  University 


L'exempiaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g^ntrositA  de: 

Dougias  Library 
Queen's  University 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  In  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  Impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  Illustrated  Impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  3n  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — >»>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  titi  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet*  de  i'exemplairo  film*,  et  en 
conformity  avec  las  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fllmage. 

Les  exemplalres  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sont  fiimAs  en  commen^ant 
par  Is  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'liiustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplairas 
originaux  sont  film4s  en  commengant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'iiiustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  seion  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  6tre 
fiimis  d  des  taux  de  rMuction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seui  clich6, 11  est  fiim6  d  partir 
de  i'angle  sup6rleur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'Images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
lllustrent  la  m6thode. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

(i 


% 


11 


■"\ 


■K 


QUEFrrS  UNIVERSITY  UOkARij 


HARPER'S  FAMILY  LIBRARY. 


"JBooXrtMaiyoK  Ni^  carry  (0  thtfln,'mi  MdrtMvinymarl 
tn  tkemottut^kl  after  aU.   A  mm  iM  ^tm  look  at  tktm,  mii  H 
United  logo  on,  when  he  wouU  have  beenMfhtened  mt  *wte  qf»  Itrgtr 
tae,tat4va man emdiU  appearanee.''—bR.  Jobniom. 


Ills  projiTieton  oTtlM  Family  Library  ftel  themaelvM  atiimilaMd  to 
tncTMwed  ezertioiui  by  tbe  diatlnguished  flir 


i^^  . , B .vronr  with  which  it  haa  alrwdy 

boon  neeirfld.  ' 

Tha  Tolumea  already  befbre  ths  pnblie  may  bo  eonfldently  appealed  to 
aa  prooA  of  zeal  on  the  part  of  the  publiahera  to  preaent  to  their  readen 
aaenea  of  pioductiona,  which,  aa  they  are  connected,  not  with  ephemeral, 
bat  with  permanent  aubjeeu,  may,  yeara  hence  aa  well  aa  now,  bo  eoa> 
aoltfd  fbr  llTely  amoapaent  aa  well  aa  aolld  instruction. 

To  render  thia  Library  atill  more  worthy  of  patronage,  the  propria* 
ton  propooe  incorporating  in  it  aueh  worka  of  intereat  and  Talno 


amnnttted  to  a  aommittee  of  literary  gentlemen  fbr  inspection ;  and  none 
will  be  reprinted  but  auch  as  ahall  be  found  calcolated  to  auatain  tha 
enltw  character  wMeh  thia  Library  has  already  acquired. 

Bereral  well-known  authon  have  been  engaged  to  prapara  flnr  It  original 
wwrksof  an  American  cnaracter,on  Iliatory,  Biography,  Trarels,  See.  Ac. 

Every  distinct  subject  will  in  general  be  comprehended  in  one  volume, 
OT  at  moat  in  three  volumea,  which  may  form  either  a  portion  oftha 
seriea  or  a  complete  worli  by  Itaelf;  and  each  volume  will  be  embelliahed 
with  appropriate  engravings. 

The  entire  series  will  be  the  production  of  authora  of  eminence,  who 
nave  acquired  celebrity  by  their  Uterary  labours,  and  whose  names,  aa 
they  appear  in  succession,  will  affbrd  the  surest  guarantee  to  the  public 
tor  the  aatisfactoqr  manner  in  which  the  subjects  will  be  treated. 

Such  is  the  plan  by  which  it  is  Intended  to  form  en  American  FamHy 
Library,  comprising  all  that  is  valuable  in  those  branches  of  knowledm 
which  most  happily  unite  entertainment  with  instruction.  The  utmMt 
care  will  be  taken,  not  only  to  exclude  wtiatever  can  have  an  injurioos 
Influence  on  the  mind,  but  to  embrace  every  thing  calculated  to  atrengtiien 
the  best  and  most  salutary  impressions. 

With  these  arrangements  and  ftciUties,  the  pnblishere  flatter  them- 
selves that  they  shall  be  able  to  present  to  their  follow-citizens  a  work 
of  unparalleled  merit  and  cheapness,  embracing  subjects  adapted  to  all 
olaasra  of  readers,  and  forming  a  body  of  Uterature  deaerving  the  praiae 
of  ha^ng  rastructed  many,  and  amused  all ;  and  above  every  other  ape- 
cies  of  eulogy,  of  being  flt  to  be  introduced,  without  reserve  or  excepticml 
by  tbe  Hither  of  a  flimily  to  the  domestic  circle.  Meanwhile,  the  very  low 
price  at  which  it  is  charged  rendera  more  extenaive  patronage  necessary 
for  ita  support  and  prosecution.  The  immediate  encouragement,  there- 
fore, or  those  who  approve  ita  plan  and  execution  is  respectnilly  solicited. 
The  work  may  be  obtained  in  complete  sets,  or  in  separate  numbers, 
from  the  principal  bookaellera  throughout  the  United  States. 


P-'.\ 


.    4 


4    < 


»Nia.  1  I  IBM  r»— ||»M».|'Si-^* 


nqpn 


if 


^i'4J 


DRAMATIC  SERIES 

OF 

THE     FAMILY     LIBRARY. 


FamUy  Libray.]  "**'**^  '"  <*'«»  «*«»  to  complete  uf  y  tkt 

fiterature  of  our  countrv^  Bi .  ,w.^i  *''"''l*  P«»"'«»n»  «o  the  uoetlo 
m  force  and  JpioMneS^of  ^x^^^^LV^^l  """J"  ^*  «"*  fl««y. 
in  rapid  change'^of  incWento  fnSSi  Snn"  ^I"''  I'^'^^^i  "^  character 
above  all,  in  justice  and  "MSn  of  LntlmiS^h""'  •V*"""' ««>» 
unknown  to  the  generality  of  r««dA«.^J?^®"'r*5!°''  '*o'"'»  ««»  totally 
an  adventurous  fewf  X  tave  &tJd  frSm  ^^^^^^  *"  *«  """"•  <* 
to  explore  for  themailves  lew  faSStar -S?^  'k  '  '?^"  P***"  "f  «»<«y 
amuwment.  The  wglMtTthJJS^^ho™  t^^T^  '""S  °'"  "'•"^ 
works  of  imagination  M  the  Snt  can  'oL^vii  '^•'  «o  ftrouraWe  tb 
slonai  coarswess  of  languM^^ch  fiJ^r^/ZJiSfK'*'''^  '»''>"  «^^ 
beauty  of  their  most  exquhrite  scZS  n^^*?h!l"'  ,■""'  !«"""»  '"e 
editors  of  the  Family  iihT^y^yTi:{Jr^f^!A  the 

tnm  the  plays  of  Ma^«ing"Knmont  Ktl,  2.PJi'''i,'J^*?«  "  aeleetlon 
MiJdleton,  and  others,  Sng^rauch  «L„«^^T^  ®'"''*'''  ^*"**«"' 
consistent  with  the  delicacy  and  reflnBmpn^n?S?J"''  Passages  as  an  in- 
Whenever  it  is  possiblMKa^  wiT^  nrim2^""<^^^^^ 
double  plot,  the  one,  as  In  the  ZL  ^f  th^vfrin  m  *?""••    K  '•">"  •"»  « 
tiftil,  and  the  otheJ  m  eminenX  jffen8iU'^th?'y«^i'' ^^ 
separated  from  the  dead  weight  "f  wriSutlon  w%il&,''f*'"y  *'"'  ** 
jomed,  and  be  presented  to  thrreader  i^a  fnrm^wlHf'' "  i"  unnaturally 
mixed  and  flowing  enjoyment  to  his  imwiSa^^n     ^  "IK  ""?'«'  ""  "»- 
evil  in  the  groundwork  of  the  plav  on?f  a  a  nau  -^^  '^"^ ''  "  "">'««' 
be  given  ;  but,  in  such  case".  ca?e 'vri^f  afwi v5  h«  ,  I'  '  "^^  *=*"«"  """y 
interest  of  an  entire  and  connected  ItorvT?«wn,l'''-,'}  J!"  V^^^'>  '»>« 
with  Short  explanatory  no^and  aion^a^^cS'^^ln':^^"''"'"^'^ 

floSed  irihl^tit'^offik^^arl'^^r^' "'  '!"^  "r"'"*-  ''««> 
are  very  much  wanted  in  tmscoumrv  Akh^nlT^'^^'^'f *"**»*  «  'hey 
of  poetry,  few  on  this  sideofZSiict^  «?„*ii'„°.T"  "k«  '^^wnci 
It  is  singular  that  they  have  no  K  ?^nrSS'**^'^'V*' •''•'*' •"«'*««• 
of  the  solid  thought  and  lab^ur^d  comD^aition^f^,r  ^i"^^-  ^  "«•• 
advantageously  substituted  for  much  XhefrinJ^rv^^^  days  might  bo 
^lous  me.re,  and  ek,i\ut  41?"fS?ce1  in'5  a^Ky^^^^^ 

a  l^mfer^'aro'Sser  mK?^^'?^^^^^^  '"^^"  P"""'«' '"  «"«»• 
that  admirable  coSn  HUherfo  he?I  hi  w„'  "»P°««"'  Matures  of 
certainly  no  successful  one,  at  0Denin'fth«^".r^  ^''"'""^'y  ""^  """"P'? 
ireasur/  which  is  to  be  found  ?nhf  works  of  TJ"!!'''*  ""^  P*^''«>^ 

sity  alone,  however,  obtain  his  interference  •  he  snlfnfL  ,I«  "^  "T^ 
assistance  without  Obtruding  it  •  somedmPH  Vn^  1,.^^'^*  "'*  «<!"»««• 
others  from  unobjectionabie"futhoritie™2X  !r^Z!  '^"""^'  " 


f^ 


-■^rir^iiii  liM^i,^,^^ 


■w".* 


t 


LIBRARY  OF  SELECT  NOVELS. 

po^ant  portion  of  "'•"'""-.^^'•^rf  to  m  eildence  In  all  .qu«t»o|« 
fide  of  real  "»'""»'»'"?  'I!  Sim  of  countrie.,  the  transition,  an* 
concerning  man.    In  '»»"»  5^  .he  vV rv  oecullarltlea  of  costume  and  dla- 
.ludea  of  character,  and  even  the  very  g^'^^.^le  apirlt  that  jurrounda 
lect,  are  curlouely  Pr««'^«*i'",/^iiT„neratlon8  renders  the  nirltiea 
md  keeps  them  tor  the  use  «f  »»^««*?'"  «*"fe  Is  laid  down  as  on  a  map. 
for  everlvesh  and  g««nV;MH<^^2rfS?n  and  of  character  which  they 
The  strong  and  vlvW  «^^'  '°"'he°^,,Krhold  ui^^  the  curiosity,  anj, 
ftimlsh.  acquire  6>A  maintain  » "«  •"°"»^!LJ^"  f  riders ;  for  not  only  la 
It  may  be  aided,  the  aflbctlons  of  f^jy  ^['"JSVOTd  coiiedy  provided  In 
enrrtalnroentln  all  the  'w'nhT;^?t?nil^?mayoften  obtain,  without 
their  pages,  but  he  who  reads  'hem  attentively  J"»y  ,  ^      „f  ^is  fellow- 

•^S"XXX'r^  SttW  th^  So^rl^  "f  cases,  be  only 
SSTaTj'a^n^^^^^  but  «.ch .»  haj. 

^^e^' ^«p^'^net'r2^p]'^^^^^^^ 

Kw  of  eatabllahed  character;  «"? '^e  ^^  wiu  e^^^^^^  them  In  the 
wcouragement  from  the  P"»>"oj»V"«Sfksrf  uniform  appearance,  and 
SX?f  time  to  produce  a  wri«  of  w^^^^^  have  been 

including  moet  of  rtiJJ^'y  J»»»g"  "S^^^  American  proas.  The 
w  Bhall  bo  issued  from  t™  nwj^jn  i^ngnju -..^^^^         ^j^^^^ 

Sowfrom  which  they  are  «  "^^  *^^°?^irialTand  U  l»  their  Inten- 
Sotsui«  them  against  ^y  J**?' "L^X^^m  the  public  confidence  in 
ttoB  to  make  '^}^*"^X^^^£^a\^^«.  •"»«  P^ce.  too,  wlU 
Se  judgment  w'th  wWcJ  tt«  adectto^  ,„^„e .,  and 

S.iS'n^Th'ft'itS.TTS.SSr^Ul  render  it  a  n^  ^  con- 
^wSTha.  b~n  "nore  thMOUghl*  di.cusg«l  »^^^^^  ^^^  ^  ^^^  ^ 

to^  TOvels  to  be  iniurioua,  or  at  >«f»»  "f*?^  "^  ^  ^osely  wamlned, 
KXlllty.  Yet,  If  toe  ^f^^^^^^X^^ZiCtuAyt  in- 
SwlU  be  found  that  they  »"  SSThV^fhetwruMl  of  flSrttU^^  adventure! 
dulgence  In  the  pleasures  •'^•J  V.'J^.'SnJua  which  can  be  juaOy 
Jtamtothe  ''o'to  *«'»!«^f  J^SSivefy  mS  from  wiy  pecuUar  noilous 

ferent.  «.>,.Ti.rfiiB_wore  nove'a  of  every  kind,  the  g«|pd  as 


BaleTenwere  It  otherwise-w««  noje'^  of  ^er^n-^^^^^^^ 
wdl  as  the  bad,  the  strikln|  and  w^'"*  "^LJJS^^iTmind    and  were 
■  Uahle  to  the  Charge  £-'^KSra%t«ctlve  as  weU  « 


ssx«u^»r£juti^-rd^^^^^^^^ 

«!W-"«I'K.!:S'i^e^o'Th^^ 


a  from  ai  ages  and  classes  of  men,  ^o^fVJ^ 
Btiu  coiiiuiuo  ».  •~™'» ''A;",_„--rtnction    The  remonstrances  of  moral- 


found,  unavailing  »8»»"li^l"*"'*r.nerK  the  utmost  that  wisdom  and 
Hve.    Men  will  wad  novels ;  » "^.^n^t^*"^  t^^^  appetite,  and.  as  it 

pWlanthropy  can  do«to  cater  pradent^^^^^^^  ^^^  ,^,1,., 

[a  hopeless  to  attempt  \he  f ''c»«»l^«;  "'^^^^ed  with  the  least  poettWe 

"nii'ShWvlt  «hi  marit  than  that  of  novelty 


c 


■^SSCi*'^^ 


!  -P 


'  i* 


^..«.r""'''  '"'^'"'^^  ''"■HART. 

h«i-5*''f"'P'»*«J  Sketch  Will  ha       -  """^  ">«  l^st  C/ai«ca! 


\ 


V 


■48^ 


■'jeftt' 


'"^SiattJiWMrTB.^. ^ 


,--g^;,jg£^: 


f\\ 


[JVfay,  1831. 
VALUABLE    WORKS 

PUBLISIIKD   BY 

J.  &  J.  HARPER.  8.  CLIFF-STREET,  NEW-YORK. 


THE  niSTOllY   OF   MO^JF^.f, 
Eimoi'K,  from  the  rise  nf  the 
Modern  Kingaoms  to  the  present 
period.    By  William  Uusskli, 
Ll-.».,  and  William  JoNKH,  Esq. 
With  Annotatiims  by  an  Ameri- 
can.    In  3  vols.  8vo. 
THE  HISTORICAL  WORKS  of 
th«  Rev.  WILLIAM  ROIJERT- 
BON.  D.D. ;  comprising  his  HIS- 
TORY of  AMERICA;  ClIARi.ES 
V  ;  SCOTLAND,  and  INDIA. 
In  3  vols.  8vo.  with  Plates. 
GIBBON'S  HISTORY  OF  THE 
DECLINE  AND  FALL  OF  THE 
ROMAN  EMPIRE.     In  4  vo»8. 
8vo.  With  Plates. 
The  rf>0T«  work!  (Ru-ell'>,3o'>ertMnV«id 
Oibbou'i)   ue  itereotyped  »nd    printed 
Sniformly.    Qn»t  p»ln»  h»ye  been  taken 
toiOT4e?«iein  perfect  in  e»enr  reepect. 

pobUibed  in  thli  cooDtr;. 
ENGLISH   SYNONYMES,  \vlth 
copious  lUustrationB  and  Explan- 
ations, drawn  flrom  the  best  Wrt- 
ters.    By  GBORoit  Or  abb,  Bl-A. 
A.  fnew  Edition,  enlarged.    8vo. 
[Stereotyped.] 
UFE  OP  LORD  BYRON.     By 
Thomas-Moorb,  Esq.  In  9  vols. 
8to.    With  a  Portrdt. 
HOOPER'S  MEDICALDICTION- 
ARY.     From  the  last  London 
Edition.  With  Additions,  by  Sa- 
HUBL  Akbrlt,  M.D.  8vo. 

COOPER'S     SURGICAL     DIG- 

^■llONARY.      to  2  vote.    8T0 

Greatly  enlarged.  [Stereotyped.] 

GOOD'S  fDr.JoHH  Masom)  STTOY 
OP  BUBDICINE.  In  6  vols.  Svo. 
A  new  edition.  With  additions 
by  Samuel  CooFBR,  M.D. 

THE  BOOK  OF  NATURE ;  being 
a  popular  lUuatratlon  of  the  cene- 
rtf[  Laws  and  Pbenomoia  of  Ore*- 
iion.&c.  BtJohmMaiomGood, 
li.dandFlt.S.  Svo.  WlthbiB 
LIfb.   [8tM«otyped.] 


DOMESTIC  DUTIES ;  or  Instruc- 

lions  to  Married  Ladies-    By  Mrs. 

William  PaRKKs.  12mo. 
ART    OF   INVIGORATING    and 

PROLONGING  LII^E.   Uy  Wa- 

MAM   KntiiiNEii,  M.D.    18mo. 

[Storcolypcd.] 
THE    COOK'S    ORACLE,    AND 

HOUSEKEEPER'S   MANUAL. 

By  William   Kitcihnkr,  M.U. 

Adapted  to  the  American  Public. 

12ino.    [Stereotyped.] 
GIBSON'S    SURVEYING.     Im« 

proved  and  enlarged.    By  Jamsb 

RVAN.    8vo. 

DAVIE8'  SURVEYING.  Svo. 
SURVEYORS'  TABLES,  llmo, 
BROWN'S  DICTIONARY  of  the 
HOLY  BIBLE.    From  the  last 
genuine  Edinburgh  edition.  Svo. 
BROWN'S  (J.)  CONCORDANCE. 
Printed  on   Diamond    type,  in 
the  Samo.  form.    [Stereotyped.] 
SERMONS     ON    IMPORTANT 
SUBJECTS,  by  the  Re".  Samubl 
Davibs,  A.M.,  •c'netliM  PTMi 
dent  of  the  College  of  New-Jet- 
■ey.    In  3  vols.  Svo. 
THE  WORKS   OF  THE   REV. 
JOHN  WESLEY,  A.M.    With 
his  Life.    Complete  In  10  vols 
Svo.   From  the  last  London  Edi- 
tion.   With  a  Portrait4 
LETTERS  FROM  THE  .EGEAN 
By  Jambb  Ekbrson,  Esq.  Svo. 

THE  LITERARY  RBMABJS  OP 
THE  LATE  HENRY  NEELE, 

Author  of  the  "  Romance  of  Hla- 
tory,"  Sie.ike.  Svo. 
RELIGIOUS  DISCOURSES.    By 
Sir  Walter  Soott,  Bart.  ISma 

LIVES  OF  THE  SIGNERS  OF 
THE  DECLARA-nON  OP  IN- 
I     DEPENDENCE.  ISmo. 

SKETCHES  FROM  VENBTIAM 
I     HISTORY.    Svola.  ISmo. 


MnKMOESAjjib 


Works  Pukhcd  hy  J.  4.  J,  H^^p^^^ 


THE  HISTORY  OP  THE  JRWS 

I- ram  f  ho  earliest  perio.l  to  the  pre- 
eent  time.  Hy  the  fiov.  H.  IF.  Mn,. 

With  original  maps,  &c. 
■•""E  LIFE  OF  NAPOI,EO^f  DUO- 
Jf^PARTE.   UyJG.LocKiUKT, 
3  viis   I'smo?''*'''"'*"' ""K™*"'*"' 

LIFE  OF  NEI^ON.  By  Robicrt 
SouTHKV.Esq.     With  a  St 

^f^I-'PE  OP  ALEXANDER 
TIIE  GREAT.     By  (he  Rev.  J 

SfcCTS.   Illustrated  by  numerous 
engravings.  JSnio.         ""'""rous 

THE   LIFE  OP  LORD   BYRON 

ByJoHNQALT.Esq.  18mo 
THE    LIFE    OP    MOHAMMED 

Founcler  of  the  Religion  of  Islam' 

By  the  Rev.  Qkorok  Bush,  A.M. 
With  a  plate.   18mo. 

^^^^IrS^^   DEMONOLOGY 
4ND    WnCHCRAFT.     By  Sir 

WALTBRScoTT.Bart.lSmo. 

HWTORY  OF  THE  BIBLE.    Bv 

18mo.with  maps  of  Palestine,  .«.c" 
NARRATIVE  OF  DISCOVPnv 
AND  ADVENTURE  IN  THE 
POLAR  SEAS  AND  REGlffi 
wlthlllaBlrattons  of  thelrOlimate 
,      GeoIogy.andNatural  HiatoiyTwj  1 

By  Proftssor  Lbhlh,  ProfeMM 
Esq.    With  maps,  &c.  I8mo. 

"nf  ^  "^^^  OP  GEORGE 
";,'??*£  Anecdotes  of  Distin- 

5wL  B^'^i?  "'■ ""» ><««  Fifty 

-  Ji  1  '*  *  portrait.  18mo.  New 
»nd  Improved  edition. 

NARRATIVE    OF    DISCOVPBv 

SiL^  *e  ew'iest  ages  to  (ha 
Wmttme.  With  IllMtratlons 
gl^f^Oeojosy.  Mineralogy,  and 

JAHia  Wilson,  Esq.,  and  Huoh 

woodengniTings.  l8mo. 
BM"roRT  OP  CHIVALRY  AND 
THE  OMJaADKa     By  oTr 
JAiiH,Ea9.  18aia,Wa  Plata! 


I  ^'y^S  ^^  EMINENT  PAINTERS 
\     AND  SCULPTORS.     By  aTlan 

C<mNiN..,UM,  Esq.     In  3  vofa 

18ino.  With  poriruits. 


FESTIVALS,    GAMES    ANn    * 

MUSEMENTS,AStan%od: 
trti.   By  Horatio  SMmi.    18mo. 

"smrs''  J?*S^  QUEEN  OP 
BCOTS.  By  HtNRv  Glassford 
Bki.i,.    In  8  vols.  l8mo. 

MASSINGER'S  PLAYS.  Designed 
forlamilyuse.    In  3  vols.  I811S. 

PELHAM;    or,    THE    ADVPW. 

turesofagent£emaJ^a 

Novel.    In  2  vols.  12mo.    By  the 
Author  of  The  Disowned,' '  fieve- 
reux,'  'I'aulCliflTord.'&o. 
THEDISmVNED.    A  Novel.    I„ 

?P.Oh;  '^.T-    ^y  'he  Author  of 
Pelham,'4o.    [Stereotyped.! 

DEVEREUX.  A  Novel.  In  8  vols 
12mo  By  the  Author  of  'Pei" 
)iam,'&c.    [Stereotyped.] 

PAUT.  CLIFFORD.    A  NoTel:    1„ 

.  p1?i'-  ^^°-    ?y «"«  Author  of 
'Pelham,'&o.    [Stereotyped,] 

THE  SIAMESE  TWINS.    By  the 

Author  of  '  Pelham,'  &o.  12ino 
AFFECTING  SCENES ;  being  Pasi 
8«ges  ftom  the  Diary  of  a  ftjvid. 
clan,  18mo.    [Stereotyped.] 

^^3.  ^D    MANHOOD   OP 
I     CYRIL  THORNTON.    ANoTeL 

2vol8.  I2mo.    [Stereotyped.] 
THE  DOTCHMANS  PmEBTOB. 

By  J.  K.  Pavldiho,  Eaq. 
BOGLE  C'ORBERT.   ANomI    R. 

s'^rsTof"^^'^?^'"*' 

CALEB  WILLUM8.     In  3  volt 
iSe"y>£"'"^"""'"'"^''*^ 

*r^  in°o  "^  G««t  St.  Beraaru,' 
«c.    InSTols.  ismo.' 

WAVBRLBY.    By  Sir  WAf». 

Scott,  Bart.  9  TOtafiSmi;""* 

LIFE  of  DK.  E.  D.  CLARKE.  8r» 

FRENCH  RBVOLOnON  Of  1830. 
LiraoPVANHALBN,*..8T«j 
BROOKS'  POEMS,  UaL 

MILLER'S  GREECE  JtoM. 
aiLUKTS  HORACE.  S  mia.  Utatt 


"^. 


Works  published  hy  J.  Sf  J.  Harper. 


BUI  WER'S  NOVELS.  Printed  and 
bound  uniformly  in  sets  of  8  vol- 
nine»-*mbrai:ing  "  Pelham."  "iho 
Dliowned,"  "  Devereux,"  and 
"  Paul  Clifford." 

DARNLEY.  A  Novel.  By  G.  R. 
Jam  IS,  Author  of  "Richelieu."  In 
3  vols.  ISino. 
DE  L'ORME.  A  Novel.  By  the 
Author  of  "  Richelieu"  and  "  Dam- 
ley."  2  vole.  13ino. 
IIAVERinLL.   A  Novel.   In  2  vols. 

12ino. 
TRAITS  OF  TRAVEL.    A  Novel. 
In  2  vols.  12mo.    By  T.  O.  Gr*t- 
TAN,  Author  of  "Highways  and 
Byways." 
THE  HEIRESS  OF  BRUGES.    A' 
Tale.    By  the  Author  of  "  High- 
vmys  and  Byways,"  "Traits  of 
Travel,"  &c.    2  vols.  12mo. 
MAXWELL.     A  Novel.     By  the 
Author  of  "  Sayings  and  Doings." 
3  vols.  12mo. 
LAWRIE  TODD  J  OR,  THE  SET- 
TLERS IN  THE  WOODS.    By 
John  Gai.t,  Esq.,  Author  of  "  the 
Annals  ofJhe  Parish,"  "the  Ayr- 
shire Legatees,"  &c.    In  3  vols. 
19mo. 
80UTHENNAN.    A  Novel.    In  2 
vola.  12mo.     By  the  Author  of 
"Lawrie  Todd,"  "the  Annals  of 
the  Parish,"  &c.  &o. 
WALTER  COLYTON.     A  Tale. 
L   3  vols.  ISmo.     By  Horace 
BtiiTH,  Author  of  "  Brambletye- 
House,"  "ZUlah,"  &c.  &c. 
THB  NEW  FOREST.     A  Novel. 
to  3  vols.  13ino.    By  the  Author 
of  "  Bramblotye-Houso,"   "  Zu- 
lab,"  aw.  &c. 
•THE  COLLEOIANS.  ANoTcI.  In 

3  vols.  I2ino. 
THE  RIVALB.    A  Novel.    By  the 
Author  of  "the  CoUeglMW,"  &c. 
to  t  vols.  ISmo. 
BUNQARIAN  TALES,   to  «  toIs. 
ISmo.    By  Mrs.  Goat,  Author  of 
the  Lettie  d*  Cachet"  and  "  Bo- 
minMeorJHalUA." 
BOSIANCKI<»  HEAL LIPTB.  fa 
t  tote.  19x0.   By  the  Auibor  o; 

«Biin|Hltt  lUea." 

OOmNa  OUT;  and  THE  FIELD 


OF  THE  FORTY  FOOTSTEPS. 
Novels.  By  Misses  Janic  and  An- 
na Maria  Portkr.  In  3  vols. 
12mo.  ..      ,      .    „ 

THE  BARONY.     A  Novel.     In  9 
vols.  lamo.    By  Miss  Ank.v  M4 

KIA  I'dRTKR. 

FRANCE,  3N  1820-30.    By  Lady 

Morgan.    In  2  voU.  12mo. 
CLOUDESLEY.    A  Novel.    In  9 
vols.  12mo.  BytheAuthorof"Ca- 
leb  Williams,"  &.c. 
SKETCHES  OF  IRISH  CHARAC- 
TER.   By  Mrs.  aARAii  C.  Hall. 
13mo. 
CYRIL  THORNTON.     A  Novel. 

In  3  vols.  12mo. 
BEATRICE.    A  Tale,  founded  on 
Facts.    By  Mrs.  Hoflanr.    In  3 
vols.  12mo. 
CONTRAST.  A  Novel.  ByRsoiNA 
Maria  Rociu,  Author  of  "  the 
Children  of  the  Abbey,"  &c.  &c. 
In  2  vols.  12mo. 
THE  DENOUNCED.  ANovel.   to 
2  vols.  12mo.    By  the  Authors  of  i 
"  Tales  by  the  O'Hara  I'^amlly,"     ^ 
THE  OXONIANS.    A  Novel,     to 
2  vols.  13mo.    By  the  Author  of 
"theRou«." 
THE  COUNTRY  CURATE.     By 
the  Author  of  "the  Subaltern."  to 
2  vols.  12nio. 
ROMANCE  of  HISTORY.  Framob. 
In  3  vols.  13nio.     By  LBiTca 
RiTOBiE,  Esq. 
ROMANCE  of  HISTORY.    SWkW 
In  3  vols.  13nM>.    By  Don  T.  Dn 
Trusba,  Author  of  "the  CaetU- 
lan,"  &c. 
THE  INCOGNITO ;  or,  SINS  AND 
PECCADILLOES.  ANovel.  By 
the  Author  of  "  Romance  of  Hl» 
tory,"  "the  Castilian,'"  Ac. 
THE  TALBA.    ANovel.    ByMra. 
Bray,  Author  of  "the  White 
Hoods,"  "the  Proteatant,"  dco. 
STORIES  OF  WATERLOO,  AND 
OTHER  TALES,     to  S  vote. 

18mo.  

WAVBRLEY  J  OR,  'TIS  SnCTV 

YEARS SDiCE.    ANovaL    tot 

vols.  13mo.    BeTiaed,  comoted, 

and  enlarged  by  the  Authar. 

D£LISLE.  ANoreL  ST(ite.lSaak 


•  t\ 


i>t- 


Works  published  by  J.  ^  J,  Harper. 


BT.  VALENTINR'S  DAY-  at  Tirp 
V\m  MAID  OK  kWi  •    af 

o(ilo(.„„ong,t«."    Hytlio  Author 
of  "  Wuverloj-."    Iii'ivolH.  ia,„„. 

THR   DOOM   OP  DRVoUOOir 

Author  of  "Wavcrloy."    i8i„„." 
TALES  OF  A  (JRANDFATIIKR 
By    lio  Author  of  ..VVavo'w- 
Sork.;.      "'"'•  ^'"''''  "'"J  »""»"" 
^lil5H7M,?J^X^^"'*'0 :  or,  HER. 

YESTERDAY  IN  IRELAND.  A 
Novel.  In  a  vol,,  i2mo.  uy  ,he 
Auihorof  "To-day  in  Ireland" 

'^'PAGR  ^^'^^'^.^^  '"'«  KING'S 
l-AUE.    A  Nov«I.    a  vols.  I2mo. 

TALES  AND  SKETCHES     By  a 

Cotintry  Schoolmaster,    ibmo 
®^PARATI0N.    ANovoI.    By  La- 

FALKLAND.     A  Novel.     By  th« 
Author  of  '<  Pelham,"  &o  ^ 

LIFE  OF  MAN8IE  WAUCH  TAT 
LOft  IN  DALKEITH     lalnl^' 

'^D?CT?^"^.'^  ""<»  THE  PRE- 
ACTION.    A  Novel.    In  8  vol.. 

THE  SUBALTERN*  LOG-BOOK 
A  Novel.    In  9  vol..  18010. 

''ffi^""-    ^^°"«'-    ">«^»- 
H^^BABA.  ANovel.   InSvol.. 

P^THUMOUS  PAPERS  PAPF 

STORIES  OP  A  BRIDE     ll«  .h- 
"  A 


THR   ENm.l^ii  AT   HOME.    A 

Auihorof  'Mho  Rii«li«h  in  ftfllv' 
«nd  "  tho  English  III  Fra„,o'.^ 

^'.'fniAm "  "*  "*''.'/'■   '•''AI^TA. 
<>i-i>it,i.«j.      An    Umiorioal    lin. 
'nnife.    In  8  vols,  lairio 

TALES  OF  MILITARY  LIFE.    In 

"Hie  Military  fikctch-Uook." 

"'' rM.'u"^  "J"  •    ATalooftha 
<'\il\Var«.    In  2  voU.  l2mo. 

A  Novel.    In  3 


''lSvS°^/^''9'''ASHI0H 


I'RIVATE  LIFE 

vols.  12ino. 

TALES  OP  THE  WEST.  8 vol. 
laina  Uy  the  Author  of  "  Lottera 
from  the  East."  ^^iwrs 

THE  YOUNG  DU%.  ANovel 
PHILIP  AUGUSTUS.  A  Novel 
THE  TUILERIES.    A  Novel     Bv 

3vWyLTL.«i^^^oT;W^ 

NORTHERNTRAVELLER.,8^- 

mVEL^^Yu^^    SELECT 
workf  ^^'^'i'"'  ^"  «"">««»  no 

Dation,  or  have  hX  JS..  '"'•P' 
.u.hoiofXSZl^iSUte'?^ 
DRAMATIC  LIBRARY-rfeE^!!: 
lection,  flrom  popular  iSSS.^ 
Dramatic  writerij  iiiu«  frT^HS? 

w   English  trwiriiioM  "of  L 
m«  valuable  G«ek  ZiL^ 

"««■»  Biographical  SketehM,  *& 


^ 


■"-"%« 

^^ii<-.- 


HAVERHILL  ; 


ra, 


MEMOIRS  OF  AN  OFFICER  IN  THE  ARMY 

OF  WOLFE. 


Bir  JAMES  A.  JONES, 

AUTHOB  OF  "  TALES  OF  AN  INDIAN  OAllt."  ^^ 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


NEW-YORK : 

PUBLISHED  BY  J.  ir  J.  HARPER,  83  CLIFF-STREET. 

BOORBACH,  W«""'  °*i""rLORD?AND  HoLbKOOK,  BILLIARD,  ORAV,  A«D  CO., 
BILL  ;-BO.TON,  "'^ «*""f  °!''i'°,?' *„p  hbndIIB,  R.  P.  AND  C.  WILMAIW,  AM» 
CROCKER  AND  »«»W^""' "•'^"s Co  !nD  SONB,  W.  AND  J.  MAL,  40UFB 
^V"4:-.X^";"l"«P  bSn^^  N.  wood,  and  ..  ROB««,K. 

183L 


^2  3,  -j^^^^   ^^ 


V. 


^ 


S 


[Entered  aefM- J- 


7-  !?-%4 


P^-v* 


Ml    • 

IP 


TO  THE    READER. 

In  describing  a  New-England  courtship  and  wedding, 
in  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  the  first  volume,  I  confess  my 
obligations  to  a  piece  in  the  "  Offering,"  published  at  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.  Having  once  read  it,  it  was  so  lively  and 
graphic  that  there  was  no  getting  it  out  of  my  head ;  so  I 
concluded  to  make  a  liberal  use  of  the  ideas  of  the  writer, 
and  then  to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  him. 

This  is  all  I  have  to  say  by  way  of  either  Advertise- 
ment or  Preface— excepting  that  I  wish  my  book  to  be 
judged  without  prejudice,  and  solely  by  its  merits. 


M<, 


\.'  .^a«»  '■  >M 


.^ 


■i. 


1 


!^^ri;rv-r«|-?r  rfol 


»A 


i. 


.4- 


>!h;*i#;g;f  t-  ^^ 


CHAPTER  I. 


i  ^)bWr  could  see  the  use  of  a  lon^  courtship,  ^  lonft 
sittiii^  over  wine,  or  a  loi^  introduction  to  a  stoiy.  I 
would  have  a  courtship  iteverto  exceed  a  week,  I  woukl 
limit  a  sitting  over  wine  ^b  an  hour,  and4he  j^ftHpry 
niatter  to  a  story  should  nevi^  exceed  three  pajges.  In 
this  instance  I  shall  compress  it  into  as  many  lines,  ai^ 
proceed  at  once  to  tny  jf^roper  theme. 
^  The  histoiy  of  my  tamily  is  briefly  this.  My  ancestoiC 
for  a  great  many  geneiratidiis,  followed  the  einplo;;^^nt  bi 
iilshing  at  QiieenborcHigh,  in  ^e  county  of  Kent,  m  merry 
old  England.  M^^mjoteirnal^tuidfatherwasnaniedHolmep, 
he  was  whipper-in  t<6  some  great  man,  but  I  foi^t  who. 
They  Wer^  very  poor ;— it  may  be  remarked  that  they  wfc<| 
follow  this  pursuit  always  are  so.  From  the  timeof  thiose' 
who  were  made  **  fishers  of  nien**'  to  the  moment  I  record 
the  fact,  they  have  bebi  proverbially  bom  and  nursed  in 
poverty,  and  have  died  in  poverty,  t  <io  not  believe  thgre 
ever  was  one  of  this  profession  who  came  into  the 
world  with  a  silver  spoon  in  his  niouth,  or  went  odt  of  it 
in  consequence  of  contracting  indigestion,  the  gout,  or  any 
other  of  the  distempers  which  are  imbibed  from  the  *'  bad 
air"  of  wealth.  It  is  a  remarkably  healthy  employment, 
aiid  one  which  causes,  which  originates, — I  mean — ^I  don't  |i|k 
know  i;v^tl'mean,^ut  Iknow  there  are  abundance  of  ^P^ 
fine,  plump,  roll-about  babies  in  fishing  towns, — indeed  it 
promotes,  physiologists  and  political  economists  say,  the 
"  superfecundity^  of  the  species  to  such  an  alarming  de-  "^ 
greci  that  if  all  were  td  pursue  it  the  world  would  resemble  , 
a  well-filled  theatre ,  but  as  to  making  money  by  it,  or  tua^; 
ing  a  penny  into  five  farthings  by  means  of  it,  I  do  iwk 

Vol.  I. — 1  • 


^ 


'V 


■♦■« 


'_'^" 


■~-">H""Sl    JP""" 


IMM^hMM 


•^mmrmti- 


^ 


$1 


^il 


*     '  HAVSaniLL.  ^ 

% 
believe  the  tiling  was  ever  done.   I  can  entertain  the  idea  of 
a  man  s  making  a  fortune  by  selling  oysters  or  cow-heels, 
but  not  that  of  hi»  acquiring  richea  by  the  quest  of  mackerel, 
or  pilchards,  or  cod,  or  whiting. 

My  grandfatljer  was  thj^  ^{.<)f ^h0  fi»iily  who,  to  the 
employment  of  taking  fish,  added  that  of  purchasing  those 
caught  by  others,  and  selling  them  again.    After  dealing 
largely  in  this  commodity  for  near  twentv  years,  he  became, 
m  consequence  of  attempting  to  monopolise  all  the  fish  at 
Billmgs^te,  at  a  season  of  u^sn^ plenty,  and  consequent 
gradual  depression  in  price,  a  bankrupt,  and  was  registered 
g  ^uchm  the  court  whichji^as  cpgnizajiceof  these  jpa^ers. 
pe  paid  a  veiT  large  d|vid|en4|iowev      teppenpe  mi^^ 
pound !  A  say  large,  fori  am  assured  by  merchants  t^ 
?^  W  yfO'  Wsaal  thins  tp  obtain  more  than  threepence 
m  the  pbund  from  the  effects  of  «  unfortunate"  men.    Th© 
jreditprs  of  my  grandfather!  ^ere  so  delighted  with  Jiib 
honesty— so  the  51d  ^entliera^ft ,  told  my  fat^,  who  told 
i|ie,^that  they  gave  hjm  the  "  whitewashing  <iocumen^'  at 
once,  anu  he  departed  from  theirprpaiencefi"  redeemed 
jnd  Regenerated"  man,  I  could  pever  tell  why  it  WM  that  jw 
honest  k  debtor,  one  who  had  so  readily  "shelled  out"  to  his 
isMgnees,  a  trader  who  produced  day-books,  ai^d  jourAals, 
ajid  leger§,and  exhibited  jnvoices,  a^d  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  ipould  nev€r  get  credit  afterwa;xj.    Jack  Iteeve,  m 
Qld  friend  of  my  father>,--rbiAt  ^aek;w^4i  sl^derousfe^' 
WW,-— used  to  say  it  was  be,c^.  tliat  while  he  produced  so 
th^y  oooks,  he  ke^pt  back,  the  Book  of  Sales,  and  "  bills 
reldfeivable."    One  thing  is  *cert?iin,  that  he  n§ver  coii'ld  get 
credit  after  his  bankruptcy.    1^1^  very  men  who  had  com- 
plimented  him  upon  his  integrity,  though  they  gave  very 
civil,  obliging aiMwers  to  his, applications  for  "goods  upon, 
time,"  never  trusted  him  again.     There  was  neyer  a  bijl  or 
'\\^-^l\^^W  grandfather's  signifjg,.  at  least,  to  be 
yjlued  above  a  round  P,  se^,  in  Queenbprpugb  there- 
after.^^ And  the  nickname  they  gave,  hin>—"  Tenpenny 
John,"— had  it  any  connexion  with  ^he  dividend,  and  was 
it  meant  to  imply  a  fraudulent  bankruptcy?  I  know  not, 
and  my  grandfather  when  questioned  as  tp  its  meaning, 
never  gave  a  vei;y  satisfactory  answer..   Ind^d,bit  e^pla? 


^***\- 


■V 


.t- 


nifMence  ta  aome  trwsactioi.  m  the  kind  ^f  *  i^^^ 
SS^ing^e  time  been  sold  at  tenpence  the  po^hd, 
S  thereafter  to  be  denominated  « tenpehnies.'*  1  "be- 
t^d  Uie  sto^,  as  in  duty  bound,  for  he  wa*  m^^' 
S  .^tSi»bt  sure  Lt  I  should  hav6  coB^^^^^^^ 
Sltherttifw  it  b^n  told  me  by  a  striinger.  or  one  that  1 

^'^Mihg  Oiere  ^re  no  means  by  which  ^^^"Wsupport 
liirSk  with  his  diminished  resources  and  undone  ere- 
drt^K'Selinedto  see  whether,  the  first  ^f^^^i^ 
improved,  and  the  lattei'  resusci  ated  m  ^hc  American 
Slonies  He  paekedup  the  various  moveables  suscep- 
t^lTof  eWkW  ^ith  a  dutyramong 

whtch  we?e^r^^^  ehildren,  put  them  on  bo«rd  a 

to  at  th^  Nore^idiidMset  sail  for  Boston  on  the  7th  of 
May,  6T9.  Where  does  my  reader  thnk  he  feed  the 
nlace  of  his  future  residence  upon  his  arrival  ?  ^Let  it  be 
rSected  thathe  had  a  continent  before  him.  ^nd  might 
SS  Wms^lf  «!««  any  'nile  of  a  barine  border^  n^ 
rthoiisand  featoi^.  Had  he  determined  to  spend  his 
LvsTwa  ffia's  Yineyard.  or  Nantucket,  or  Block 
I&  S  at^quaSi,or  Sag  Harbour,  or  Chincoteague,  or 

ZMn  -but  when  I  say  that  he  chose  Cape  Cod,  the  very 

madere,  1  fhoqldWxvere  I  to  offer  a  vindication  ofjba 
mL  Mariners  a^  awdre.if^Undsmen  are  not,  thai 
Cape  Cod  is  the  very  region  of  hurricanes  and  tempiets 
ariother  ^*  Cape  of  Storm^"--at  dertam  seasons  of  the  year 
a  riTe  boisterous  spot  than  any  other  to  be  found  in  jTorth 
Wica.    But  thei^  is  no  accounting  for  taste-e^peci^lly 

"^ll^iH^^^Si^ectionfor  the  calling  v.hich  had 
fe^enUhat  of  hi^  ancestors  for  near  two  hundred  years^ 
embarkedinaquest^^hichthough  ««»  of  p.lchards  was 
still  of  fish,  and  in  so  far  a  remstatement  of  himself  m  his 
former  vocation.  He  toiled  very  hard,  but  though  he  could 
not  say  that  he  caught  nothing,  he  could  have  m^de  oath 
that  he  caught  oiilf  enough  to  keep  his  family  froni  starv- 
Sa  Fori  lortg  time  it^l^^s  his  fete  to  receive  from  the 
d^ty  who  distributes  the  goods  of  fortune,  a  sufficiency  of 


%■ 


4 


^  . 


I 


:  W.. 


{(•„. 


^he  could  do.  £Kl?&i,i'iS'.*<>^«'-.  e\S^ 

•»  oe  manned  wifii  NicleJ*!^.  d      ***'  *™<*  he  eaimd 

"Pon  the  occurrence  of  evXj  tj    ™*  *•  despatched 
blowy"  nH>„i^^^e»'eTCnrplea,,„,  and  not^»^ 

^wSfSe'-t^^^'-'^^fe'rir  dllSe.^^^ 

JK'koned  «dvent„"rTOv^'^.1°<*  1-^.*^ 

.    •««««•»  he  added  anJtteJS  J"*'  ■«"*  eWeiJS 

Hsjoge,  i.  called  T-gXii^.tf''^.'''"'''''  "»»™* 

mop»  were  the  better  ^TtS  •    ?**  *«  Plinoe  «  ^ 

'."•e,  oars,  boat-wariM  .LJ  Lu  ^  mh-lmes,  hooks,  seim 

fo- the  girls,-  bu,  hi,  cWef  b^i: '^i^'fe*  "*nick-kS 
E.'te  ;PPK<»tion  of  the^S„°;„'*rW8*e'-e  founded 
Dndoubtedfy  he  migh,  and  l-o13d  hi'"'  »««*'««>"'  lips 
-Jhey  have  frequently  been  m»5^  hawacqui^  ,  fort^ 
but  he  was  preTCBteHW .1      "?*  "  the  unholv  vooSf 

attention,  but  scarcely  worth  11*-  ®**^o'd»naiy  cam  and 
"Ponthem.   Ninety LrSl#i«iL™^*"*^<^^^^^^ 

*  was  contracted,  and  the 


% 


■4. 


Wiiytji«din|{'«We  yeMf  •  tttbbfe^  obt  Wfth  a  w^t  to¥(W  of 
th^  mo^  dcNibCfal  of  tlsB  chftfjjes,  ind  the  scoring  up  to 
better  men  of  the' simount/mj^  grandfather,  jwor  old  man ! 
t^as  seldom  *ble  t*i  make  the  tivo  ends  bf  the  year  meet 
Without  their  snairiing  at  catjh  otfie^r  like  an  iUiissorted 
couple,  Of  apair  whose  m«t6h  ¥ai  a  lcHr^-match-^1  rtiean 
aioin-a-^^,  Cii||*«-lBve^it'h-^-herlove  To-day 

Ik  Nickcpsdii  rto  off,  tO^morrow  a  HaUet  **  stiwjre  out,"  ^s 
the  phrase  is,^wheR  a  man  ireleases  himseTf  fromhte  dfebtfi 
nnder  the  operation  of  an  insolvent  law,  andljy  m^ahi 
of  an  oath— God  hate  mercy  on  many  of  thoge  who  take 
it;  and  perhaps  t^itbln  a  week  d  Nye  pleaded  the  distresif 
<rf  his  family;  •'bhiWfreh  ofteH  ciofnpelled  to  go  to  bed'sii|. 
perless*  "  wife  ftet  read^  to  lie  in,**  Doctor  Sm^theruM 
look  the  last  f^rthihg,'*  &c.,  arid  lyas  forgiven  a  balance  Of 
five  poundi— a  small  matter  to  a  large  trader,  but6f  ciJn-* 
sideirable  importance  to  a  small  one  like  my  grandfather.^ 
There  wits  another,  and  a  still  greater  drawback  upon 
the  j)it>fit8ofpnly  grandfather's  busmess—H  was  this :  that 
he  Was  himself  a>^fy  thirsty  man,  a  very  sand-bed  for  ab- 
sorl^ng  liquids,  HM  could  ^mpty  a  bottle  of  Jamaica  run| 
withthemofrtihardened  sinner  of  a  drunkard  betvreehCoi'' 
basset  rocks  and  the ''sandy  Point  of  Monamoy.  -  ltd* 
needed  conSi<|etably  less  than  the  teinptation  of  good  ffelj^ 
lowship  to  Join  in  every  drunken  frolic  in  the  neighbour/ 
hoodi  Whertjver  tbpers  were  wet,  my  grandfather  s  good- 
natured,  burly  fac^  was  sujre  to  be  sqen— the  "hail-fellbVif-' 
well-met*V  of  tl^e  tijsiiest^the  v6ry  |)Wnee  of  Ipw '  dki 
baucheeii.  His  voic^  form^  a  prominent  part  in  everjjj 
drunken  gtee  6i»  <featch  trolled  of  a  winte|r's  evening  m  the 
fishing  hamlfet  of  Scudderville.  When  you  passed  my 
grandfather's  "grog-shop,^'  if  you  he^rd  one  voice  rising  in 
all  the  beauty  of  tipsihess  aix)ve  the  deafening  choir  of 
revellek;s;  you  might  veiitUre  to  Sweai*  it  Svas  his.  And  ilj 
when  gitiping  your  way  Jit  a  late  hour,  upon  a  dark  nijght, 
in  one  of  the  ^eep-wams  vvrhich  led  from  the  congregated 
grogeries  on  the  shore  to  the  cluster  of  cabins  on  the  hill, 
you  jostled  a  reeling  explorer  of  the  same  dubious  path; 
or  if  you  met  one  taking  a  lesson  in  heraldry — that  is 
adopting  supporters^  you  might  venture  to  call  him  "  Ten- 


.1: 


'^'S 


IP''. 


J 


'm 


mi  debits  and  nToT^^^J^'^^^^'nU^ 
•^|?«dual  improveinenr  whioh  moS  !?^  *"  ^"^  »'«**«  of 

the  osgistance  he  receiyed  fmm  k^     u-Ij   '°^«^<*»  but  for 
'      tmly  have  been  ^^l^I^J^l^^'^'^^  ^'  ^o" W  cer- 
50M  we,^  all  healC  hSuZ^or«  fnT^^*    «'«  ««^«» 
««hennen,  and  ready  to  tu^„,1;.^"^^  ^eiy  expert 

whereby  a penn y Sd  be "TJiT  p"**1/^  *"y  ^^ing 
thefemilep^  ofTf^i^'Zu^SS^f^r^'^^ 
promote  hi?  interests.    Thev  wrr^T "  '^^  ^^^^""  ««<» 
wife  and  s«  daughte,;,  air  r^SbT/lSue"*  rd^'^r  «* 
and  quite  as  capable  of  maiinfl^  »  k^  '^^^^  «*^"8t, 

a?  in.  Accordinfto  the  cutto^  Jf^^^  ^^"^  °^  *^~>" 
a»y  were  employed,  brhir/„Th.i'-^  ^"i^l!^  *^^"«ts. 
&I0W  the  laAdi^  of ^thH  r  ^T^^r  ^"^'^  w^^^^ 
inftiatethemintheVsteriLch^^  a^  attempted  to 

'^    'fw^said  wainscotinrK\hi^^^^^ 

enfolment  of  the  dS?s  tto  th?^^^  The 

enabled  the  sons,  amoi|  whom  w««,  "  ""^'""S'Service- 
themselves  to  the  morf  SeZ„T?K '"^i/^''^^''' *»>  ^^vote 
{art  of  the  professioMhe£winl,?r£t  ""^'^^^^nous 
By  various  twists  and  turn!  mv  ^^?!t^"^ 

fid  food  for  fifteenmo&^^o^S^^^  "^ 

4e  ehiirch  assessments.  wShal  as  £  mi^'^?^*^".'' ^ 
came  less  fond  of  rum  and^th^n  ^-  ^X?"^"^  older,  he  be^ 
the  shop  after  my  sAndfJt^^  ''  ^^l'^ ''«"'  ^*»<^  kept 
teft-henU  and^LrnormS^^L'^^^^^  ''^^'^  Wm,  wL 
Upon  the  whole,  his  afraid  underl^S^^^^ 
of  grandmother  and  uhcIp  T«Lk  J^  °*  admmistration 
J«ring  the  last  five^arsTf Vh^^^^^  rather  impn)ved 


■••«,it<»'iUj&*ijii: 


■.'U  bll-OiSf  •     . 


-S^ 


CHAPTER  H. 

*  .      •  .       - 
But  the' law  W  oor  oatttre  which  demandithe  divorce 
of  the  spirit  from  the  flesh  which  is  doomed  for  a  whdeto 
enshroud  it,  was  at  length  made  to  operate  «pon«>«  "g^J 
™S     He  died  on  the  W  ^Y  **»«»  my  father  became  of 
^leaving  nothing  to  his  children  but  the  fortythousa^ 
tSueraiBSor  puzil«iupon  the  wainscot,  mtendcd  to  re- 
print bis  credits,  and  double-damned  post  obits.    My 
aunts   fancying  that  nothingcouHbe  made  of  them,  ap- 
S  a  wet  toJwel  to  the  enuSs  surface,  and  though  the  ei4 
wutor.  my  uncle  Ichabod,  aaerward  covered  as  many 
^uam  feet  with  scores  against  the  estate  of  Deacon  Mili- 
Sn!^ntly  deceased,  and  that  of  John  Frost,  the  nch 
blacksmith,  i  do  not  believe  there  ever  was  fifty  ^f*^ 
collected  of  all  the  debts  doe  to  the  testator.    Hapjily  ^ 
children,  thus  lett  unprovided  with  money,  received  a  vast 
bheSceof  health^  Being  used  to  burfet  with hardslnp^ 
they  saw  nothing  to  make  them  Tery  unhappy  in  aft^e 
which  admitted  pf  their  being  but  little  augmented.    1  he^ 
thought  themselves  sure  of  food  and  clothing,  and  their 
narrowed  hopes  looked  for  nothing  more. 

And  now  cJme  what,  in  America,  is  called  the  tuning  <HJ«j 
by  which  is  meant  the  departurte  of  the  sons  from  the    oW 
house,^  the  flight  ofthe  covey  from  the  nest.    1  do  not 
mean  to  be  understood  that  this  event  is  usually  deferred 
until  the  death  of  the  father ;  it  is  not-from  ten  to  six- 
teen being  the  age  at  which,  to  use  the  vul^r  phrase,  the 
brood  leaves  thelien,  and  that  whether  thefather  is  liyu^ 
or  dead.    But  my  grandfether  had  managed  to  keep  all  his 
children  around  hWtiU  the  day  of  his  death^  an  error 
which  parents  very  often  fall  into  whose  head*  «\."5* 
Zng  enough  to  control  their  hearts.    It  is  a  killing  kmd- 
ness  m  a  ^  man  to  keep  all  his  children  around  him^t 
an  age  when  they  should  be  up  and  doing,    yonotmewi 
to  recommend  to  parents  the  kicking,  their  children  out  of 


#' 


m 


**^attft&; 


<, 


continued  the  bwinl.    r  ^/'«n<'ftther  two  of  »h. 
exception  of  mv  ??u**  ^^  co^Hfehinif.  the  i7h.        .*.  **"■ 

'i:«m  my  knowledge  7L^/  ^'^"^''^tfcer'sXth '  iS? 
a»e  It  must  iiave  £«n  *k     *'"po8'ti6n,  «rood  m«„  ?  'i  **^^ 

brothera..  .kT',.     *  remained  a  renfT.      "e^er  found 


....^^„ 


Cap*,  ind  ItTJosoliile.  <iti«4«to|.iiU  harfy  ■opi  ind 
dtuSitert,  for  a  part  of  the  coart  which  offer^  greater 
adTintages,  and,  M  he  drily  remarked,  wat  •^better  ihel. 
leied."    He  lettled  m  the  to^  of -,  a  few  r^ 

from  Salem,  M^n^«»on**«K'«»ft?'i****''n    w    ^^^ 
BaiikB,  aecond  daughter  ci|cJld  Captain  Ben  B«;^ J""^*' 
and  owner  of  the  ch^ique  boat  Lovmg  Couple,  (aj 
called  because  he  andlus  wife  >^ere  never  known  W 
quarrel  less  than  three  times  a  day).    lmm«<*«i«>J  "P^ 
his  marriage,  he  proc<#ded  to  do  as  his  fothjir  had  dono 
before  himT    He  built  a  small  house  upon  the  ▼«>ry  verge 
of  the  ocean--so  near  the  water  that  the  spray  and  the 
surf  were  thrown  by  winds  of  more  than  ordinanr  violenc^ 
ugainst  his  windowii  and  the  sea-gull,  tracing  the  devujjg 
course  of  the  strand,  came  withm  point-blank  stotot  mf 
door.    He  now  commenced  the  business  which  had  t>een 
that  pursued  by  our  family  for  oenturies—fishing,  a  part  of 
the  vear,  of  cod  upon  the  neighbouring  bhoals,  or  remoter 
George's  Banks,  and  the  remainiiig  part  of  ^resn-];^^' 
fish,  wid  oysters  for  the  metropolis  of  the  colony,  Bojtos. 
His  mme  will  be  long  remembered  among  oystertakir^ 
from  his  having  been  the  first  to  spell  August  with  an  r— 
Augurst,  by  wiSch  he  evaded  tl?e  law  agamsttakmg  oysters 
in  months  which  had  no  fin  them  1 

He  adopted  other  unwise  customs,  comrapn  to  my  an- 
cestots  for  many  generations  past,  such  as  the  begetting 
numerous  sons  and  daughters  before  he  had  P~v»def  ** 
their  support  and  maintenance,  a  practice  against  whicti  l 
enter  my  solemn  pi^test.    He  took  the  unhappy  augmcn- 
tation  of  mouths,  F  mean  of  the  num^  of  mouths,  all  m 
good  part  however,  and  upon  the  receipt  of  the  fine,  plump 
little  M  or  girl,  which  made  its bowor  courtesy  abont  every 
April,  usually  between  the  tenth  and  seventeenth,  was  sure 
to  exclaim  •♦  the  more  the  merrier,"  Without  the  disheart- 
enifiKQuallftcation  of  "the  fewer  the  better  cheer.       10 
tell  the  truth,  and  I  have  more  than  once  inUmated  as 
mueh;  my  father's  hopes  were  never  very  high— he  never 
looked  to  be  made  a  general  or  a  jud^e  ;  never  h^d  to 
see  Ws  chUdren  «  stuclo'er  with  titles,  or  huig  fo^^  wrth 
gtrines."    A  plenty  for  them  to  eat  iand  dnnk,  with  Ijeaiin 
wd^dy  clothes,  ho  matter  how  much  the  latter  were 


JBPs^". 


n 


w, 


|0 

were  I^aL   ' S™"* "> wy limu^lu.'^?  "»•  W" 
f«Jcr  cheek  or  p-C^hc;  S^A*^  *f'''o«Vw«Z 


ili> 


toN,; 


Children b^weT^i  ^^^''^ ^as noVa SeaSl^^'.^^** 


iMt<  p  <«loMny  nan^tkre  of  iieal^,  btim^  and  hruftot, 
wriiiui  iiy  %  BtpttofJeMiy^  tht  ^nrtly  Mstoriin.in  the^  fa^ 
laM«fi«f'th»  bibl«rth6>Mh»tei|Ci>fen€l  the  it^A\}ngJbo<^, 
8oni?tii|ie9y«u«#opl(ltee;on0W'iii  oKi^inlXAtfcubi'trii^ 
Hb  ,toolhftch»^  0iHgi9nRklg|ttpi^ly  With'th^  b^  oflt  h$^ 
oti^jfoter^^  8oiKkflttiu|^H|il  ifche  wnt^iT  tfflijet,  or  «( 
rtMQiriaiic  p«iii  imck  thJnHpFbr  ti  ttoubleiome  fit  of  ^fit 
amae  ffoiii  aaluitf  loo  loai^  (^aina  of  «ra)^  but  tb^  were 
uimll  nwitMf^lighti  iM|iii%  mov^  tiOes.  erils  whfch  Jirf 
not  bid  t»>tllat!gMiM»revil-^  ^fflifeWIfr  and  -wct^ 
•aUoBi  pMtid!^h«4fi<w<aiMCoh8eiqMhid^ihk4^ 
n^t»  parbajpii  b  ooofilo  of  ibem,  aiid  a  biSef  dcvolvfeiiebt 
Of^tha  hovBohold  <iarai  upon  ttiy  mOtter.  yhme  m%  1* 
ereiy  body  know$,  are  noi  to  M  claised  with  the  etilg  of 
human  ]if&->rather,  parfaapa  to  be  accounted  amoqg  it^ 
pleaaorea. 


»»  J.tv.      -    ■  If  ' 

,1!,.:*'  . 


.'*:- 


UfOH  tfce  coaat  of  Net«r.EiiBland;ind  !  bejieve  jl'ij  «io 
same  on  every  marine  border^hat  clci$8  of  pojiul&^rt  hr 
the  healthieit  Who  live  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
ooean.^  The  individuaJs  Composing  this  class  are  seldom 
afflicted  witbaWynipWttI  disease  eiteepting  old  age,  whik 
those  who  dwell  at  some  distance  fVom  it,  and  yet  nbt 
beyond  the  point  where  its  saline  qualities  are  lost  in  & 
air,  ar©  afflicted  with  fevers,  iqnd  subject  to  ailments  the 
former  know  only  bjf  name.  ^  ^:'.    ' ''■  '^ 

J  was  the  third  ^on  and  fourth  (ihlM  <if  %  fkther.  From 
my  cradle  I  was  the  stoutest  andi  beyond  cbrtparis6n,  the, 
most  agile  of  the  mate  inembers  of  the  faniify.  Wh^n  t 
was  eight  years  old,  I  could,  aid  frequently  didf,  whip  Japk, 
bj^.fi^ur  years  my  senior,  with  Uttfe  trouble,  and  throw  Jem 
wifch  opei  baiid.  In  fact,  with  the  exception  of  my  sister 
J^flByi^ho'was  the  lord,  or  nither  the  fady  paranpounfeof 
att  the  Urnestlert  of  the  vfll^;' averting  in  a  footirtice. 


V 


'j%(Ki(Bi»*f*  '■i'i#.ini.i(,i>iw<'iiiiiy;Mi.|.. 


;  \ 


V      iSi 


t  i 


nre-omiiwiit  with  th.  i..«.  .k-  m-^.-,^  mniii   i-fl       i 

unp^idied  ianguage  of  those  by  whom  I  was  suS^uSd^ 

;  But  when,*^^  they  continued,  "the  boat  was  to  bTSwed 

out  against  a  nght  smart  sow-wester,  or  .teei^d  o^^jf 

lte«„LtK"^~"'  ««1  or  worked  to  windwa^  b^ 
■hort  hankMhere  was  not  Lynn's  match  to  be  found  anv 

Tf^/K  ^r  ^""^  ^y  '''"*'  ^^^her's  opinion,  andU  ^g 
echoed  by  all  our  nei^boprs  .nd  aoquaintanceTwho^S 
not  fad  to  see  in  the"  curly-headed  knave,"  as  they  «>bd 

^^^l^^"^  any  ^pe^^^te  is 

>  Ay,  so  he  will,  neighbour  ffedky/There  is  » terrible 
sig^t  of  spunk  m  that  £>y;  i  dare  ^  bound  tKeS 
a  f^r  amongst  us  atpre  he's  ten  yeara  old^.''         ^% 

KeL^^H  '^^.^"g"'^^  f  ^y  future  fame  tdth  a  beatite 
he^^and  a  glowjng  cheek,  for  my  hopes  wel-e  S 
bounded  by  the.prcfeasion  of  my  fet4.  my  voSui S 
copld  look  np,%her  than^be  dSun^is"e/rU^^^^ 

^id  t^fi^r  ^"•^'*'^*  «^'^vated  at  this  Sme  fc 
ejection  to  fill  the  chair  of  the  America^  prfesiS^vL^, 

1^  ,»Ir.  ^ith~/c^,^p3,tbVlibpat  of  picked  «i^^: 


■^T^, 


^^.: 


■"/!■ 


HAVa&BILL. 


13 


To  be  made  the  companion  of  Lem.  Clark,  and  Phil.  King, 
and  Eb.  Pease,  and  above  all,  of  Harlow  Crosby,  who 
could  "  tend  four  lines  in  sixty  fathoms  of  water,"  ay,  and 
mate  with  them,  t.  e.  receive  9n  equal  portion  of  the  fish 
caught,  was  more  than  I  could  well  bear : — it  did  for  me 
what  flattery  does  for  a  beanty, — spoiled  me,  at  least  for  a 
while.  I  gave  myself  great  airs  among  my  brothers,  sis- 
ters, and  playmates  ;  took  to  puffing  cigars ;  wore  my  hat 
ipon  one  side  of  my  head  ;  tied  a  handkerchief  stuffed 
with  cotton,  vulgarly  called  a  "pudding,"  around  my  neck, 
80  as  to  envelope  my  chin ;  affected  consequence  in  my 
gait,  and  became  upon  the  whole  so  haughty  and  ungov- 
ernable, that  my  father  was  compelled  to  adopt  the  mode 
of  reproof  which  parents  are,  in  general,  very  loath  to  adopt 
till  expostulation  is  found  of  no  use,  and  threats  have  ceased 
to  intimidate. 

•♦  Lynn,"  said  he,  "  I  see  how  it  is ;  you  must  go  with 
me  to  the  barn." 

What  my  father  did  when  he  got  me  there,  I  shall  never 
tell.  I  could  have  borne  &iy  other  punishment  unmoved, 
but  the  disgraceful  one  he  thought  proper  to  inflict, 
filled  me  with  grief  for  a  month.  It  cured  me  effectually, 
however.  I  deserved  it,  for  no  British  midshipman  of 
twelve,  or  American  "  master  of  arts"  of  eighteen,  ever 
carried  more  official  hauteur  and  superciliousness  than  I 
did  upon  my  appointment  to  this  seat  in  a  fishing-boat. 
Nor  should  this  excite  wonder.  The  general  at  the  head 
of  an  army  of  half  a  million,— Alexander  at  Issus,  Tamer- 
lane at  Angora,  CsBsar  at  Pharsalia, — ^who  has  succeeded  in 
tearing  the  diadem  of  empire  from  the  brows  of  an  oppo- 
nent, of  equal  means  and  valour,  derives  not  more  plea- 
sure from  his  victory,  nor  is  more  inflated  by  his  success, 
than  the  simple  husbandman  who  has  carried  away  from 
a  dozen  competitors  "the  Society's  medal  for  a  prize  ox." 
Beauty,  glory,  wealth,  ste^gth,  with  every  other  quality, 
physical  or  mental,are  but  relative  terms— wonder  not,then, 
at  my  simple  ambition,  and  the  cheap  terms  upon  which  my 
self  complacency  was  satisfied.  If  my  readers  will  recall  to 
their  memory  the  blissful  period  of  early  youth,  they  will 
find  that  joys  as  simple  as  mine,  and  hopes  as  easily  satis- 

VOL.  1.—* 


H 


'«: 


^  li 


I 


'II 


/•  } 


I'    '-V  « 


Iff. 


f/  f 


14 

fied. 


HAVERHILL. 


TV 


ere  the  gems  in  its  cup  of  felicity.     Then 


in  whipping  a  Vo^iH^inrabaTl^w^^^^  r^S 
acqu.renr,ents ;  to  be  allowed  an  extra  hour  oFZy  1?^ 
unexpected  holyday,  were  ^^orth  any  week's  enRent^ 
the  period  between  twenty-five  and  forty  De  i^hSul^. 
nod !  our  hfe  should  be  all  such,  for  then  existence's 
decked  out  with  the  robes  of  the  Rainbow  ._®^'''^"''®  '^ 

N«  caro  ass&ils  our  bosoms,  such  as  when 
Our  infancy  is  passed,  and  we  go  forth  as  men. 

««?.r'  "L*  ^'"""^  """  *!l®  ^'^^^n  that  I  found  employment 
and  acquired  renown.   The  ordinary  business  of  mv  fSr 

acTv^L'ason:  r^^^'^'!?^-^^^^"^  eveSe'mt: 
aciive  seasons,  was  frequently  interrupted  bv  those  tpm 

Aew-England  in  the  spring  and  autumn.    When  I  could 

w4  L&.^  "^?  f  •'«''  "'""''•  "••'»  " 
was  too  damp  to  lay  out  those  caught  and  oartlv  cureA 

upon  the  "flakes"  to  dry.  and  when  the seasoKffiS 
was  past,  I  went  to  labour  for  the  neighbounW  ferS 
^ways  commanding  the  first  call  md  fhTwS"fs[  ™S 
because  I  worked  with  unreluctent  sinews.  fspa,S^5 
VZ^ P'f r-  ''»^'"<"?  y  w">"ght  wHh  both  haW  "Itf 
I  can  t  get  Lynn  HaTerhill,  «fe„  you  may  come"  wLi  the 

P^m^inXirfir'^  banners  to  application  ret 
sai^^^^t^''"'"*^'™*°''"°''««»"y"'«»'"    ^ 

G^m^el!  *^  """'  *""""'  ^^  '  ^"^^  ''"*^'"  "'^  »«*>'• 
"  I  take  a  great  interest  in  HaTerhill's  third  son,"  said  the 

"f'oW  Mr*^-  "'I''- ,  "Ir"**"'"  continued  iheTtter! 
of  l™l^«  f  T"  "■:".'' u"*^  ''^^P'"8  hi",  in  hi.  present  line 
.lm».!ifh  J  '»"^««»"'  ™*  him  at  some  convenient 
a  vn„?h  Ift™''J""-    "•  T?'"*  absolutely  bfe  a  sin  to  keep 

k^ge."  °ori,nroKr '" "  '^■""' """ "  '^'■ 
™;y  Mr4rsitih''™hry: '^^e%^^^^ 

my  potato-field  there  wa,  a  th^d  more  work  done  wilh 


RAVBRniLL. 


15 


•me,"  was  the 


the  same  number  of  men  than  there  was  on  the  day  after 
he  left  us." 

Few  thanks  gave  I  to  the  friendly  eulogists  who  coun- 
selled a  change  of  vocation.  As  yet  I  could  conceive  of 
no  higher  honour  or  greater  usefulness  than  was  to  be  found 
in  the  calling  of  my  ^ther  and  ancestors.  Had  one  offered 
to  transfer  me  from  John  Smith's  boat  to  Eton  school  I 
should  have  laughed  at  the  proposal. 

If  my  employers  in  the  field  and  on  the  water  gave  me 
unqualified  praise  for  my  industry,  there  was  one  man  with 
whom  I  came  oflen  ia  contact,  whose  opinions  and  reports 
were  little  to  my  credit,  and  this  was  the  schoolmaster. 
He  assured  my  parents  and  every  body  else  that  I  was  the 
greatest  dunce  in  the  colony,  and  I  believe  his  opinion  was 
grounded  on  sufficient  premises.  Not  that  he  imputed  to 
me  want  of  natural  talent — no  such  thing — he  attributed 
the  small  progress  I  made  in  learning  to  my  extreme  inat- 
tention, recklessness,  and  love  of  fun.  "I  don't  know  what 
to  make  of  him,  or  what  to  do  with  him,"  said  he ;  "  but  it 
is  mischief,  mischief,  roguery,  roguery,  from  morning  till 
night.  When  I  go  to  prayers,  ten  to  one  when  I  rise  from  my 
cusliion  ifl  don't  leave  my  wig  upon  the  chair  to  which  the 
rascal  has  tied  it ;  and  if  1  attempt  to  smoke  in  a  pipe  which 
has  laid  a  single  minute  unnoticed,  or  if  I  do  not  carefblly 
beat  it  out  before  I  use  it,  I  am  sure  to  find  'r..  filled  with 
powder,  and  go  off  like  a  rocket.  1  am  certain  there  never 
was  his  equal  for  roguery  since  the  world  began." 

The  schoolmaster's  suspicion  of  the  cause  of  my  making 
so  little  progress  in  learning  was  pe*  fectly  correct.  I  hated 
books ;  it  was  not  without  much  difficulty  that  I  was  coaxed 
as  far  as  the  trisyllabical  page  of  Dilworth's  spelling-book, 
or  made  to  sort  the  letters  which  went  to  the  spelling  of  my 
own  name.  I  had^  as  I  have  said,  an  inordinate  love  of 
boyish  recreation  and  iVolic,  a  disposition  which  could 
scarcely  be  checked  by  labour,  much  less  kept  under  by 
the  restraints  imposed  by  the  pedagogue.  It  was  a  kind  of 
overflow  of  health  and  animal  spirits,  a  bursting  by  the  latter 
of  the  shackles  put  on  by  those  whose  vivacity  had  been 
sobered  by  time,  and  who  could  feel  no  sympathy  with  the 
gay  boy.  That  is  a  strange  feeling  which  leads  us,  when 
old  age  has  stolen  upon  us,  to  find  sensible  pleasure  JA 


<•*¥*» ■■xmtiUr.Miit*:*.,  ,...*ilfe>-... 


16 


RAVBRBILL. 


!'      (^ 


m  .  i 


checking  the  current  of  youthful  joys,  and  in  fastening  a 
gray  beard  upon  a  downy  cheek.  Yet  so  it  is,  the  more 
age  chills  our  own  feelings,  the  greater  appears  our  anxiety 
to  transfer  a  portion  of  the  withering  influence  to  those  by 
whom  it  is  yet  unfelt. 

There  was  far  more  pleasure  for  me  in  mischief,  and  so 
I  followed  it  in  preference  to  poring  over  dictionaries,  and 
"readers,"  corderies,  and  copy-books.     |  could  go  three 
miles  to  nail  up  Jemmy  Clevelend's  windows  and  doors,  or 
to  fasten  a  board  over  the  flues  of  an  old  negro  woman's 
chimney,  or  to  roll  a  cart-wheel,  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
down  a  steep  hill,  against  Ben  Stewart's  cabin,  and  throw 
my  whole  soul  into  each  task  ;  but  I  hated  the  sight  of  a 
book,  and  the  sound  of  one  reading  was  purgatory  to  me. 
I  have  been  five  miles  in  a  dark  night  to  elevate  a  pole 
with  a  marine  flag  at  the  end  of  it,  upon  the  high  cliff's  of 
Wabsquoy,  that  it  might  be  mistaken,  the  next  morning,  for 
a  stranded  vessel,  and  so  attract  crowds  from  far  and  near. 
I  was  the  leader  of  the  press-gang,  which  went  four  miles 
to  *  press'  a  poor  old  blind  man  into  his  majesty's  service,  and 
which  only  released  him  upon  his  sisters  producing,  for  our 
use,  her  ample  store  of  pies  and  tarts.     I  could  shoot  wild 
fowl,  and  track  wild  beasts,  strike  a  ball  further  and  more 
surely ; — in  running  a  foot-race  give  a  tenth  part  vantage,yet 
reach  the  goal  first :  I  could  break  a  colt,  or  manage  a  plea- 
sure boat,  and  do  all  these  tasks  with  great  ability  and  out 
of  pure  love ;  but  my  ambition  went  no  further.     They 
could  not  make  me  see  the  use  of  learning.  No  man  could 
catch  more  fish  than  John  Johnson,  and  he  could  not  have 
counted  to  a  hundred  if  the  mines  of  Peru  had  been 
offered  as  a  recompense.    And  old  Mr.  Isaac  Smith,  of 
Lumbert's  Cove,  who  could  tell  a  dog-fish  from  a  haddock 
the  moment  it  caught  the  hook,  did  not  know  the  letters  of 
the  alphabet.     The  greatest  quantity  of  fish  ever  brought 
from  the  Banks  in  one  season  was  taken  by  Jo.  Johes  and  his 
four  brothers,  who  were  the  most  ignorant  men  alive.    So 
1  came  to  the  conclusion  that  all  learning  was  useless,  since 
the  men  I  was  most  anxious  to  rival  were  enabled  to  achieve 
such  splendid  deeds  without  it.     "  We'll  see,   father," 
said  I,  in  answer  to  my  kind  parent's  expostulations  with 
me  for  my  idleness,  "  who  catches  most  fish  next  year, 


HAVERHILL. 


17 


Le.  Coates  or  I.  He  spelt  some  big,  long  word  yesterday 
—what  was  the  word,  Jack  ?" 

"  Constantinople,"  answered  Jack. 

«  Spelled  Constantinople,  and  went  up  to  the  head  of 
the  class,  crowing  like  a  cock.  And  yet  put  him  on  old 
Mr.  Trapp's  colt,  and  see  if  he  can  sit  there  as  I  did,  or 
let  him  try  to  beat  a  boat  through  Quickse's  river  in  a  dark 
night — we'll  rest  the  matter  upon  that." 

My  father,  seeing  that  expostulation  was  of  no  use  with 
me,  gave  over  for  that  time,  and  suffered  things  to  take 
Iheir  natural  course. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

But  when  two  years  more  had  put  me  upon  a  deeper 
train  of  thought,  and  a  little  sobered  my  boyish  vivacity, 
and  when  a  circumstance  of  a  peculiarly  painful  nature,  to 
be  mentioned  in  another  place,  had  enabled  me  to  see  the 
withering  contempt,  and  hear  the  biting  taunts  and  sarcasms 
bestowed  upon  ignorance,  I  betook  myself,  with  an  eager- 
ness quite  as  unreasonable  as  my  former  idleness,  to  the 
acquiring  of  the  knowledge  without  which  a  man  may  be- 
come good,  but  never  great.  I  have  before  remarked, 
that  from  infancy  it  had  been  my  strong  trait  to  pursue 
every  thing  I  undertook  with  unconquerable  ardour  and 
perseverance.  And  now,  at  the  very  late  age  of  fourteen 
years,  and  in  stature  almost  a  man,  behold  me  seated  upon 
the  same  bench  with  the  "  a  b,  aVs"  the  derision  of  those 
whom  I  had  derided,  the  scoffer  scoffed  at.  But  I  com- 
menced my  long  delayed  studies  with  a  determination  to 
make  up  for  lost  time  and  misspent  hours,  and  I  succeeded 
in  wiping  off  the  disgrace.  It  took  me  some  time  to  bring 
my  mind  to  relinquish  my  old  amusements  and  play-fellows, 
but  at  length  such  a  resolution  was  actually  formed,  put  in 
practice,  and  persevered  in.  I  take  pleasure  in  declaring 
that  my  pride  was  first  roused,  and  my  attention  first 
drawn  to  books  and  learning  by  the  sarcasms  of  a  female, 

2* 


',-■{- 


u\i>,0t^-m 


v.,m<  ,ir^fim<>' ^MWi  fci«.Jlfc.JMlMl>i..#>'- 


18 


ll 


m  ^ 


m 


*     HAVKRHIIL. 


«?i&^  and  aftenva^  co. 

l^rne  lovely  and  gen  le  beinr  I  T  n"' °^  *'"^^'' by  ^^^^ 
hour  when  I  made  the  unnJeafantdt'"  ""^"/'  ^""'Set  thl 
the  brightest  oyes  that  eVS-  S.f''''^7  ^^^^  a  Pair  of 
were  weeping  from  very  wfe  f."^  *^"-  ^""»«"  ^^^ 
word  "wo*e,~noseon^r&K*  "^y  misspelling  the 
It  were  the  plural  of  the^egaS     ?  7f''^l'  ''  ^^«"gh 
that  I  should  feel  so  much  pU    "*     '  ^^''^  "^^  before  think 
«ot  tax  me  with  bein|l^^:f "  ^    '"^  ^^  ^^^'-hTd 
otherwise  rivalled  in  pugSc  or  L      ^^"^^  '"  ^^^rs,  or 
remember  well  that  there  was  aW^'i'^  exercises.    I 
which  finally  swelled  into  Tdeafin      ^^  ,^^"^^«'  tetter, 
and  further  remember  and  shall  n!^'"^^^''^  ^^  ^«"ghter 
bpng  my  head  for  shame   and  ?-         "^^^  ^^^'^  ^^^»  ' 
kind,  good,  sweet,  little  MarvrJ''  ''?^^^  *^  '"y  eyes, 
countenance  in  which  viS^^vmrTth'  ^""'l^^  "P'^"^  a 
and  regret  for  having  particLaffi*^^  "^''^-""y  ^^^^ring 
g^mgwith  a  strong  ifshS 

was  pervading  thel-est  of  Z  "ch  J,^'  merriment  which 
whicn  had  vexed  me  •  I  dJU  ^'  ^*  ^a^  her  laugh 
others,  having,  in  mV  otn  handTth"'^^  ^"' ^«*  «^tK 
ample  vengeance  upon  Jheni     t'  ^^t.™^an.  of  taking 

Case,  who  had  echoeTwth^mnh"'?'  .?°'^«°  «"d  Saul 
J?^at.on  "  Oh,  the  big  boZV^^'i^  ^^  '"aster's  excla- 
Jght  his  command  to  «  po7e  thefr  fi  ^^^^  ^^*^  ^^^at  de- 
fog  with  little  effort,  ha?w£l\^^^^^^^      ^^'    i  could 
Jeast ;  and  I  proposed  to  mvsei? Iff  ^  T'^  «^  ^'^^es  at 
what  virtue  there  was  n  2nfl'  f*  «^^««J-hours,  to  try 
aughmg  gent^.    TheTe  were^  mattr^''"''  "^  '^^  ^'^'^ 
thought,  however.    But  Marv  V     -J?  ,'.^^''c«  worth  a 
pered  Maiy,  the  idol  of  the  ^i^fe  "  ["^'  ^"^'  ^weet-tem- 
«  village,"  whose  step  was  LhfPr^^''?'?  ^^^  P«t  of  the 
was  .weeter  than  tfe  mu  c^  of  ^^t^  ^f  ^^^ 
grove,  w.hose  face  was  alwnv!  J    ^^^^^onsters  of  the 

never  said  a  cross  w^or^^^^'rrr'^j"  ^"^''^*'  ^^o 
she  for  whom,  in  the  4^«t  sea^^^^x'^K^?"^,^  action- 
highest  trees  in  the  forest?  tf  savp  ,\'  ^^"^  ^""^^ed  the 
ventured  into  the  jaws  of  0^1  rl 
Growler;  and  far  whom  I  haH^fh  J?,^'"^  *'''^««  dog, 
«^  seacoast  in  search  V  a  « iwf^"^  ^"  many  miles 

^     i^)Uuguese  man-of-war,* 


yuv^Kmti, 


and  afterward  con- 
jes  of  truth"  by  the 
"  never  foi^et  the 
>very  that  a  pair  of 
ip  the  human  face 
tny  misspeJJing  the 
PeJIing  It  as  thoueh 
Id  not  before  think 
ny  gibe  which  did 
equal  in  years,  or 
astic  exercises.    I 
md  general  titter, 
peal  of  laughter: 
*rget  that  when  I 
shed  to  my  eyes, 
ooked  up,  with  a 
lyith  my  suffering 
'ingitwerestrug- 
tnerriment  which 
t  was  her  laugh 
sn  for  that  of  the 
ttieani  of  taking 
5rdon  and  Saul 
5  master's  excla- 
'  with  great  de- 
«  me,"  I  could 
ore  of  times  at 
)ol.hours,  to  try 
ral  of  the  other 
carce  worth  a 
ind,  sweet-tem- 
the  pet  of  the 
•  s,  whose  voice 
oristers  of  the 
fi  smiles,  who 
»ome  action— 
d  climbed  the 
»et  lamb  I  had 
I's  cross  dog, 
o  many  miles 
man-of-war,'* 


19 


because  she  had  expressed  a  wish  to  see  one— to  have  her 
join  in  the  laugh,  to  see  her  ruby  lips  display  the  pearls 
which  lurked  behhid  them,  made  my  very  heart  ache.    It 
was  the  closing  lesson  of  the  day  in  which  my  pride  re- 
ceived Its  wound— and  a  fortunate  circumstance  it  wa», 
for  I  could  not  have  restrained  my  tears  much  longer,  and 
should  have  incurred  further  ridicule  by  weeping  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  school.    I  stole  out  of  the  house  in 
great    tribulation,  and  with  my  spirits   so    completely 
paralyzed,  that,  for  once,  I  stifled  my  thirst  for  vengeance, 
and  concluded  to  defer  flogging  Jem  Gordon,  and  stoning 
Sam  Davis  and  Saul  Case  till  a  day  of  renewed  enercn^ 
In  ill-regulated  country  schools  there  is  usually  a  strife 
to  see  who  shall  first  leave  the  school-house,  and  as  much 
hustling  takes  place  as  there  does  among  a  crowd  of  Lon- 
don pickpockets  on  Lord  Mayor's  day.    On  this  day  I 
made  extraordinary  exertions  to  get  out,  not  so  much  for 
the  honour  of  mastery  as  to  avoid  Mary.    Hitherto  it  had 
been  my  invariable  custom  to  wait  at  the  door  until  she 
had  adjusted  her  cloak  or  her  shawl,  as  the  season  de- 
manded one  or  the  other,  and  put  on  her  bonnet  and 
gloves,  that  I  might  lend  her  my  assistance  to  cross  the 
rude  bndge  thrown  over  the  neighbouring  streamlet.    To- 
day I  made  no  pause,  but  I  heard  from  the  noisy  crowd  of 
giddy  urchins  behind  me  shouts  of  « the  bridge,  Lynn,  the 
bridge ;  help  Mary  Danvers  over  the  bridge,"  coupled 
with  other  cries  of  «  nose— nose  on  your  face,"  and  mixed 
with  the  noisy  remonstrances  of  the  few  who  kindly  clung 
to  my  fallen  fortunes,  and  defended  me  from  the  taunts 
and  reproaches  so  liberally  showered  upon  me.    But  I 
was  fleet  of  foot,  almost  as  fleet  as  a  wild  colt,  and  soon 
left  both  friends  and  foes  far  behind  me.     I  could  see  them, 
however,  for  minutes  after  I  had  ceased  to  hear  them, 
throwing  their  caps  imd  hats  into  the  air,  with  as  much 
joy  at  my  discomfiture  as  a  nation  of  the  old  world  would 
have  testified  for  the  death  of  a  tyrant— or  the  birth 
of  one. 

As  the  usual  road  to  my  home  was  much  too  public  for 
one  labouring  under  a  consciousness  of  deserved  disgrace, 
I  took  an  unfrequented  path  which  would  screen  me  in 
«ome  measure  from  observation.    It  was  true  it  led  over 


so 


ii^vxRnLt. 


a  morass,  an  almost  impassable  morass,  but  what  wer« 
hogs  and  quagmires,  wet  feet  and  fevers,  to  meeUnfCJl 
or  hearing  the  dreadful  sound  "nose  on  y^^fai'^' 

edge  of  the  bog,  and  then,  secure  as  I  thought  from  inter. 

for  me  to  shed  tears;  the  last  three  years,  boy  as  I  vef 

berr^r  r"''"^  "J^^^lf  with  making  a  hedge  of  whortle 

-'i^T^   "y    ''''*»'"'  whispered    at    my   shouK 

I  looked  up  hastily,  and  there  stood  Mary  Danvers     I 

rtr^ielXr''  "^  ■"  r^,""  *"  'his^ituZrwilh 

t^£i?!  -^S,^-hro.l^xrd«4 
p^rdto^rdeiito^'dis^LT^^^^^^ 
«ud  js:  hTrrgt-^iS,™-  tr^i  tft; 

^t?.f,rih:f''i"£L;'if^re"^^^^^^^^^ 

sooner  crjr  than  laugh/'  "^"""^  ^^^^"  ^  ^°"^d 

"I  know  you  could  not  help  lauffhine  Marv"  c«,-^  t 
« J  do  not  b  ame  vou  for  InnM.Jncr     t    ^'       T'    ®^'^  ** 


HAVERHILL. 


21 


but  what  were  ^ 
meeting  Mary,  | 
^our  face."  I  | 
[  came  to  the 
;ht  from  inter- 
t  a  usual  thing 
s,  boy  as  I  yet 
a-dozen  times, 
e,  or  Rachael 
enough  to  get 
•Hen  but  dned 
?e  of  whortle- 
voice,  which 
I  am  sure  I 
sweetly  pain- 
ty  shoulder 

Danvers.  I 
ituation,  with 
y  employed  J 
and  more — I 

forbade  my 

not  come  a 

snakes,  and 
other  things 
)n  as  trifles  ? 
uch  deep  in- 
it,  nor  was  I 

I  laughed," 
r«,  and  her 
t  help  it.  I 
ain  I  would 

ry»"  said  I. 
they  say,  a 
my  endeav- 
p  and  fre- 
u  laughed; 
e  need  Jbe 


"Ah,  but,  Lynn,  why  will  you  not  strive  to  sink  that 
name  in  one  which  shall  mean  and  sound  something  better? 
It  is  a  bad  word — *  booby.'  It  is,  believe  me,  quite  as 
easy  for  you  to  acquire  a  name  for  learning  as  for  igno- 
rance ;  you  may  become  as  celebrated  for  your  industry 
and  good  behaviour  in  school,  as  you  have  been  for  good 
behaviour,  barring  your  mad  pranks,  out  of  it.  Read  and 
study  as  you  work  and  play,  and  you  will  soon  become  a 
great  scholar.  The  same  diligence  which  lias  caused  you  to 
be  first  in  whatever  manual  pursuit  you  have  undertaken, 
exerted  upon  books,  would  place  vou  at  the  head  of  your 
class  in  a  very  few  weeks,  at  the  head  of  the  school  in  a 
very  few  months." 

♦•  I  cannot  learn,  Mary." 

"  You  will  not  learn,  Lynn." 

"  No,  I  cannot  learn." 

"Did  you  try?" 

"  Yes,"  and  I  held  down  my  head,  sheepishly,  with  a  fear 
of  being  probed  further. 

"When?" 

"  Last — Monday." 

«  Thought,  maybe,  to  finish  your  education  by  Tuesday 
night,  We'n'sday  morning  at  farthest  ?  Oh,  Lynn. — ^But 
I  will  not  add  to  your  griefs.  That  you  have  made  so  lit- 
tle progress  in  learning  is  not  because  your  Maker  has 
withheld  talents  from  you,  but  because  you  are — I  don't 
wish  to  grieve  you,  Lynn,  but  I  must  speak  the  truth, — a 
very  idle  boy,  as  regards  learning,  not  in  any  thing  else— • 
oh,  no,  not  idle  in  any  thing  else, — and  spend  in  play  and 
mischieif — ^why  will  you  do  so,  Lynn? — the  hours  which, 
properly  employed,  would,  papa  says,  make  a  very  great 
man  of  you  by-and-by." 

"  Mary,"  I  asked,  "  did  your  papa  say  this  of  me  ?  if 
he  did,  he's  a  kind  old  gentleman,  and  the  next  time  I  go 
into  his  meadows  with  the  scythe,  I'll  cut  so  much  grass 
that  he'll  think  Old  Nick  has  helped  me.  But  did  he 
say  so  ?" 

"  Did  you  ever  know  me  tell  an  untruth  ?" 

"  Never.     Oh,  yes,  I  forget,  once." 

"  Me  fib,  Lynn  !  how  dare  you  say  it  ?" 

<'You  said  that  never  while  you  lived  would   you 


n-' 

lljj 

^H 

1 

1 

^'J 

1 

.1-1 

fl 

|i, 

?',: 

iH 

Fn*^ 

^H 

Vk 

:H 

1 

1 

93 


Haverhill. 


W' 


llf 


of  life  vrith  himQPlf     i  ^j      *  u        * '"  *"®  ^^"^^  sphere 

Crosbyfand  Je«ipr  aTd  HetrR  .r""  ?"^t^* 
experienced  fishermen     thr.."^  ^""*'"'  «"<<  "'''ef 

«»«.  you  d„T:nhS;k,ieS.s  iron*?  ^"i*^*"" 

ieldom  calls  any  body  neiffhHn.n^.  k-        ?'i~~P®P^  ^®7 
natured  when  h^e  doL  :f!:;ou  ^ 

Simon  of  tying  that  noble  boyTwn  to  a  fi^?1;2''^*'''''"' 
do  you  ?    He  was  bom  T  nL  „  ^".'^  ^  lish-boat  always, 

£what  m  mrfa'S^rer?:?'  '^'  -"^"^  "e  J .'• 

KendS'iat"L^nih:^i'^T '"«?'•»<'''»•''''<•  Mr. 
fear  he  wiirneSer  L  a„vT„a  h^.r^tu"  *«  '<='«x>'-    « 

almost  fifteen  and  among  the  tS  hZ'  ^^7 '"{  °"» 
I  cannot  now  undertakp  fr!  r^o  ?    !u  ^^^  '"  ^^^  school. 


:^ 


:/il 


HAVBRHILti 


2S 


niJes  to  shoot  the 


[college,  you  will  not  have,  like  him,  to  fill  your  gatchel  with 

linusty  old  Greek  and  Latin  books.     Strive  to  excel  in  those 

Ibranches  of  learning  which  will  be  of  every-day  use  to 

you ;  learn  to  read,  write,  cipher,  (the  curl  of  her  little 

ruby  lip  hinted  at  the  next  word),  above  all,  learn  to — 

\  spell,  (she  could  scarce  restrain  her  laughter,  even  while 

her  eyes  were  full  of  tears),  and  you  may  become  a  creat 

man — no  not  a  very  great  man,  without  other  study  or 

I  acquirement  than  these." 

"How  you  can  talk,  Mary?"  said  I,  unable  to  repress 
my  admiration  for  what  I  conceived  to  be  her  tran- 
scendent powers  of  speech.  "  How  did  you  get  all  this 
knowledge  ?" 

"Oh,  I  have  very  little  knowledge ;  but  what  I  have  I  got 
as  you  must  get  it,  if  you  ever  get  it,  by  study,  hard  study," 

"  And  I — will  be  idle  no  more.    From  this  day — " 

"  What  ?"  she  demanded,  and  her  eyes  glowed  with  the 
lustre  of  the  diamond. 

"  From  this  day  I  will  be  idle  no  more.  I  will  hence- 
forward strive  to  acquire  a  character  for  industrv  in  school 
as  well  as  out  of  it.  If  I  do  not  learn  now,  it  shall  not  be 
for  want  of  attention." 

"  Oh !  I  am  so  glad,  Lynn,"  exclaimed  the  bright-eyed 
little  beauty,  shaking  back  the  glossy  ringlets  which  fell 
over  her  rosy  cheeks  and  lily  neck,  and  blushing  deeply  at 
her  own  eager  joy,  while  she  continued  her  delightful 
gossip,  which  I  could  have  listened  to  for  a  century, 
t*  Now  you  will  soon  be  at  the  head  of  the  class." 

"  Oh,  Mary,  how  can  you  say  so  ?  Just  think  where  I 
am  now— just  recollect  that  I  am  a  great  booby,  and  see 
how  small  the  chance  is  that  I  shall  ever  be  any  thing  else." 

"  I  recollect  that  you  are  now  a  great,  very  great  oooby, 
but  I  know  you  well  enough  to  know  that  you  will  not 
remain  so  long.  Your  pride  and  ambition  are  awakened, 
and  now  we  shall  see  you  do  wonders.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad — 
if  I  were  the  little  bird  upon  that  limb  yondeu,  how  I 
would  fly !  Well !  I  shall  not  get  the  "  reward  of  merit" 
for  going  to  the  head  of  the  class  any  more,  but  I  don't 
care  for  that — indeed  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  lose  it  to  you. 
And  you  will  soon  *  go  above'  Jem  Gordon,  the  good-for- 
nothing  fellow,  and  Ned  Dawkins,  and  Sam  Davis,  and  all 
the  laughers.    Oh !  I  am  so  glad !" 


7? 

( |T-'  '^^i^^l 

:|: 

In 

•)^ 

J  ill 

l 

|fal 

i 

(^'fm  IH 

h 

1,  "V'^l 

i>.-,t 

!  't^E'^^l 

i^k 

•A  flJIf^H 

1 

"But  I  shall  make  very  little  headway*  at  first  Marv " 

Sewnrxfto^'^T*'"'^.  ^y^''  recolLtion  thitlTo; 
Knew  next  to  nothuig—that,  at  the  ace  of  fifteen   I  hZ 

iterally  to  commence  with  the  alphafet-lto"b^i„\vSh 

iSid'ror?-  "  ^'  '"^  ™^"^^ "'"  ^ « month  oTshi:!' 

Ann?^^^  T  '°  '  t^^  ^^'''"^  ^^  Wicked  may  laugh,  but 
dont  |„,nd  th        the  smiles  of  the  wise  and  go^  C 
make  up  for  the.r  scoffs.    And  when  you  have  bf  auhrm 
tlien  will  come  your  time  to  laugh  "  '"' 

menSlyT  ''  ^^"^'^^  '^°  «y"«^^«« '"  I  ^claimed,  half 
"  That  will  be  only  for  a  few  dnvo     T    k..* 

and  h^a Vltr^-    .*?"  "^'""'■'iw  we  will  study  earl, 
^  „M  t.    "'t*5'«^'-'"'"«'.  and  on  other  days  wfcn  vou 

muours  are  ended,  you  shall  come  to  the  m-eat  Tarrh  troo 

'' Wha?t^^^^^^  «-^-'  or  to^he  s  5"'      •^^  ' 

h.^  Z*u'  the  stile  wliere  I  found  the  litUe girl  cryinff  whn 
hadbst  herself,and  tomher  frock  ?"  ^     crymgwho 

Yes,  the  sUle  about  which  you  tease  me  so  mnrh  »♦  ooU 
"  And  the  larch  it  diall  be,  Mary." 

have"r„Tso^';„'""i.i:r''"°l  r*J'«°  y»  *« 


•%' 


■AVEnifTLL. 


y*  Qt  first,  Mary," 
lection  that  I  now 
■  of  fifteen,  I  had 
3t — to  *  begin  with 
a  month  of  shame 

ed  may  laugh,  but 
se  and  good  will 
LI  have  beat  them, 

'  I  exclaimed,  half 

[—but  you  mu8t 

,  Lynn.** 

sail  the  beautiful 

will  study  early 
r  days  when  you 
g,  or  when  those 
great  larch-tree, 
othe  stile." 

B  girl  crying  who 

le  so  much,"  said 
I  of  this  little  in- 
(ut  I  had  rather 


his  to  you  that 
'hich  meanders 
ot  its  sparkling 
►es  confinement, 
as  it  rolls  orer 
:,  are  not  loud 
Jly  intent  upon 
study  intently, 
lew  book,  very 
^  I  am  now,  to 


jress,"  in  England 
kcing  at  aea.— jE^ii. 


35 


be  sure,  I  did  not  know,  till  next  day,  that  there  was 
thunder  and  lightning  while  I  sat  reading  and  looking 
over  it.  And  as  for  the  sighing  of  the  wind  through  th? 
branches  of  the  old  tree,  and  the  rustling  of  its  leaves,  and 
the  creaking  of  its  limbs,  I  always  thought  I  could  get  my 
lesson  much  easier  for  such  sounds.  But,  if  either  the 
stream  or  the  tree  disturb  you,  I  will  ask  papa  to  let  us  sit 
in  the  summer-house,  or,  when  the  weather  is  cold  or  wet, 
in  his  study.  R ..  always  says  he  loves  to  please  his  little 
Mary,  and,  besides,  I  am  quite  sure  he  will  be  glad  to  see 
his  predictions  of  your  becoming  a  great  man  made  true." 

The  words  of  the  prediction  sounded  so  pleasant  tha<  I 
caused  her  to  repeat  them. 

"  And  he  jocosely  told  your  father,"  she  added,  blushing 
slightly,  "  that  perhaps  you  would  marry  into  some  great 
family  yet." 

"  I  think  I  shall ;  I  think  I  shall  marry  you,  Mary,"  said 
I ;  "  you  would  make  a  charming  little' wifey— that  is,  if 
you  won't  get  in  the  brambles  again,  and  tear  your 
frock." 

"  Oh,  gracious  me,  Lynn  !  but  you  will  never  marry  any 
body,  till  you  have  learned  to — " 

"Spell,  you  are  going  to  say;  but  don't  say  it,  Mary  ;  I 
don't  love  to  hear  you  say  it." 

"  But  will  you  come  to  the  school-house  ?" 

"Will  Hive?" 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  If  I  live  I  will  be  there.  No,— yes,— let  me  think. 
Tuesday  I  work  for  Deacon  Reed ;  We'n'sduy  I  am  hired 
— no,  nothing  for  to-morrow." 

"  You  must  come  eveiy  day,  when  you  can.  I  will 
teach  you  all  I  know,  and  I  will  be  industrious  myself,  and 
get  more  learning,  just  for  the  sake  of  imparting  it  to  you." 

"  Oh,  how  good  you  are,  Mary.  I  wish  Growler  would 
sprmg  at  your  pet  lamb  again,  and  then  I  could  do  some- 
thing to  repay  you  for  your  good  advice,  and  all  you  are 
offering  to  do  for  me." 

"You  may  pay  me  without  Lammy's  incurring  any 
danger.  You  may  be  a  good  boy,  Lynn,  and  that  will 
more  than  pay  me."  i  ^ 

"Ah,  but,  Mary." 

Vol.  Lr-3  L 


tVf, 


W 


96 


HAVERHILL. 


i: 


m" 


Hi 


o8^'r  ^y/' ''  ^^""'  '  •^""'^  ^™'  ^y  P-y.  «»  don't  you 

™"  ''"'i'  7""  '■omsmber  how  much,  the  sprina  before  l»,t 
you  wished  to  see  a  hum-bird's  egg  s  Now  ni  .T  ' 
there  has  been  for  some  days  pa?  a  hum  b'i,vl  hT' 
smallest  bit  of  a  thing  you  eversaw.X&ou.t 

I'SJEeStte'-tfrK  hL'SS^-"  '" 
«■»§•'  it  *0"W  be  built  on  tit  sli^l  on 'hftr 
most  bough  of  the  larch  which  overhangs  ir^"*^  ''P' 

Ji  ^  ^'T'  ^"^  *^^  t^^^J^s  shall  be  mine  »  ^^ 

My  lovely  httle  monitress  now  rose  to  go.  I  wisheH 
much  to  attend  her,  but  she  declined.  I  urged  the  an 
proachmg  darkness,  the  owls  that  flitted  at  nightfal  in  Z 
FXr^"^'}^'^!  b"^-^rd,  which  some  saifwa  Peg^ 
Collets  murdered  baby,  and  other  difficulties,  rial  or  s?f 
posed,  but  she  was  positive,  and  set  off  alone  I  ft^bS 
her,however,keep.ng  carefully  out  of  her  sight,  und  llaw 
her  pass  the  buzzard's-tree  and  the  great  wood  within 
birds  of  wisdom,  and  was  sure  that  the  ircToSt,i,f 

tTmytmr''^"'  '^^^  "^^  abroad,  and  CtS 

JCtLTsirjr^^^^^^^^^ 

time  in  my  life  unbidden,  take  a  Zir  by"h;  te  tithi 
book  m  my  hand,  and  busy  myself  till  a  LhouTwith 
studymg  the  next  day's  lesson.  The  sheep  shmanne7ln 
which  I  commenced,  together  with  the^cLS  thev 
evinced  to  know  what  had  occasioned  the  change  and  the 
odd  ways  hey  took  to  express  their  pleasure  afiheVew 
direction  given  to  my  ideas,  even  now,  when  more  than^ 
quarter  of  a  century  has  passed  away,'neve?fai?to  exdte 
a  smile,  chastened  as  my  feelings  are  by  the  recollS 
llttr^a^t^^'"^'^  ""'''''  belovei  circle  wte 

upon  the  outside  of  ti;erm,7ooK  sXTb^oHrt 


H     :A\ 


>ay,  so  don't  you 


nAVERHILL. 


27 


the  shelf,  and  without  looking  up,  drew  a  settle  near  tho 
candle  by  which  my  father  was  working.  He  laid  down 
his  net ;  wiped  his  spectacles,  and  adjusted  them  again ; 
my  mother  also  laid  by  her  work,  and  both  surveyed  me 
and  my  new  occupation  with  intense  curiosity. 

"  Why,  look,  Jenny,"  said  my  father  to  my  mother,  "  if 
that  isn't  a  sight  then  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  where  I 
shall  find  one  !" 

"  It  won't  last  long ;  the  fit  will  be  off  in  a  minute  or 
two,"  said  Jack. 

"  He'll  havt)  the  'stericks,  I  am  afraid,"  said  James. 

My  roguish  little  brother  Michael  made  a  pair  of  leather 
spectacles,  to  be  used  in  my  examination  when  I  should 
have  finished  the  lesson,  and  the  madcap  Sally  asked  the 
nature  of  my  occupation  through  the  boat-trumpet.  The 
old  house  dog  «  Boatswain,"  waked  up  from  his  slumbers 
by  the  noise,  came  running  to  know  what  the  uproar  was 
about,  and  to  have  a  shai'e  in  it.  But  when  they,  dog  and 
all,  saw  that  their  good-natured  derision  brought  tears  to 
my  eyes,  they  were  at  my  side  in  a  moment,  and,  with 
kisses  and  pleading  looks,  besought  my  pardon.  Fond  but 
unavailing  are  my  regrets  for  the  many  of  that  kind  group 
who  have  fallen,  to  use  an  Indian  metaphor,  "like  leaves 
in  the  harvest  moon."  Brothers,  all  but  one,  gone,  gone, — 
perished  before  my  eyes  by  hunger,  thirst,  and  suffering ; 
my  adored  mother  laid  in  the  dust  of  a  broken  heart,  my 
beautiful  sister-— but  God  giveth,  and  He  taketh  away, 
blessed  be  His  name. 

I  did  not  retire  to  my  straw  pallet  that  night  till  want  of 
sleep  compelled  me. 

The  next  morning  I  was  at  the  school-house  an  hour 
before  the  master.  Early  as  it  was  there  was  one  there 
before  me,— my  little  i^receptress.  I  found  her  seated,  in 
anxious  suspense,  fearing  my  relapse  from  my  virtuous 
resolution,  upon  the  master's  desk,  an  eminence  which 
enabled  her  to  look  down  the  path  by  which  her  newly 
engaged  pupil  usually  made  his  appearance. 

"  Ah,  now  I  have  hopes  of  you,  but  I  feared  you  would 
not  come,"  she  cried. 

"And  yet  you  know  that,  hitherto,  when  I  hdi^fsaid 
*  I  will  do  this'  or  *  I  will  do  that,'  I  never  yet  mm,  at 
least,  to  try  to  do  it." 


■*^" 


# 


J.1 


28 


HAVERHILL. 


"  Assistant"  Jr  ^  ^^  ^^^  ^^^^  ^'6  studied.     The 

■       but  to  me  fresh  ««  tho  ^  iJ^  ^®'  ^"^  ^®''  extremely  trite, 

paper  I  ever  suK  w»        ?''  ^^'^^^  ^^^  ^^^t  sheet  of 

books  apd  .he  LS  oflS^"^  «cqua,„.ance  «ith 
proclaim  me  ^  pZi^^  '^'  "'^  "^  "«'='«''  ^egan  to 

T^  deacon  followed  him  in  silence. 
^iT      •     ^«^ed  the  deacon.  ^ 


RATERHUX. 


29 


3son.  It  was  now 
the  master's  chair, 
both-— with  a  little 

with  one  of  my 
nd  depending  on 
h  one  of  hers,  in 
e  studied.     The 
led  down  by  her 
r  extremely  trite, 
^born  babe,  wer^ 
s.    She  gave  out 
what  vowels,  and 
s,  and  mutes,  and 

in  writing  from 
he  first  sheet  of 
ection.  Do  not 
►ings  took  place 
that  time  but  to 
've  should  do  on 
iirsday  were  the 
i  resolving  the 
quaintance  with 

ssive  day,  in  the 
asses  were  dis- 
od  out  in  bold 
naster  began  to 

ant,  «  step  this 
1  you;"  and  he 
srable  distance     ' 
)  wait  at  the 


xclaimed  Mr. 
all. 

•  it,  nor  in  my 

sic  authors — 

lave  a  pretty 

Greeks   and 


**  Why,  yes,  Mr.  Kendall,  I  have  always  heard  so." 

"  Well,  I  will  say  that  all  of  them  put  together  cannot 
produce  a  parallel  to  this  astonishing  case." 

"  Bless  me,  why,  what  is  it  ?" 

"  You  know  Lynn  Haverhill,  I  think  ?" 

"  Perfectly." 

*'  Well,  three  week's  ago  he  could  not  spell  words  of  two 
syllables,  *  baker,*  ♦  ladder,'  and  the  like,  and  now  it  would 
do  your  heart  good  to  see  him  take  a  tug  with  *  phthisic,' 
*  cachexy,'  and  other  hard  dogs  of  that  class.  Well,  I  vow 
if  they  are  not  setting  the  tune,  and  you  not  in  the  deacon's 
seat." 

My  altered  habits  soon  became  the  theme  of  the  village. 
I  gave  up  play  entirely,  concluded  a  firm  treaty  of  peace, 
and  stipulated  for  a  full  amnesty  and  oblivion  of  past 
offences  with  Jemmy  Cleveland,  Black  Beck,  and  Ben 
Stewart,  burned  my  bat  and  sold  my  shooting  gun. 
Books  now  afforded  me  greater  delight  than  ever  boyish 
sports  had  done.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  my  progress 
in  learning  was'  great ;  for  what  will  not  untiring  diligence, 
aided  by  a  respectable  share  of  talent,  achieve  ?  When 
one  gives  fifteen  hours  of  the  twenty-four  to  his  studies,  and 
dreams  about  them  the  remaining  nine,  it  is  hard  if  he  do 
not  imbibe  a  portion  of  their  spirit.  My  little  preceptress 
appeared  to  feel  prouder  than  any  one  else  of  my  improve- 
ment, and  could  scarce  conceal  her  joy  w  hen,  in  less  than 
three  months,  I  stood  at  the  head  of  the  senior  spelling- 
class,  and  received  withal  the  master's  commendation  for 
being  the  "  best  reader  and  the  readiest  cipherer  in  the 
school."  And  when  lie  called  me  to  him,  and  shook  my 
hand,  and  named  me  aloud  as  a  happy  example  of  what 
diligence  and  resolution  could  do  towards  improving  and 
fortifying  the  mind,  amidst  the  voices  raised  to  testify  their 
joy  at  m^  success,  and  concurrence  in  the  praise  bestowed 
upon  me,  that  of  Mary  was,  at  least  by  me,  the  most  dis- 
tinctly heard.  I  am  sure  I  never  felt  so  much  pleasure 
before  in  helping  her  over  the  stile  and  the  bridge  as  I  did 
that  night ;  and  it  may  be  mentioned  as  another  circum- 
stance, evincing  the  peculiar  nature  of  my  feelings  at  the 
moment,  that  I  passed  the  hours  of  a  bright  moonlight 
evening  in  repauring  the  hedge  around  the  ant-hill. 

3* 


30 


HAVERHILL. 


m- 


CHAPTER  V. 

Two  years  more  of  my  life  passed  away  in  the  routine 

of  duties  which  had  marked  its  earJy  period,  durin/wh  ch 

never  mortal  exhibited  greater  industry  than  I  did      Not 

an  hour,  or  its  tithe,  was  wasted  in  any  idle  pursuk.     My 

old  associates  came  often  with  stories  of  mischief  to  l3e 

BuT;'nl2"f  r?f  "  T'^*'"S'^  "  ^"d  the  Hke,  at   ucJ  and 

for  i^  P  T     'i  ^'  *^''^  ^^"^'  h^d  ^«^«^d  t«  have  pleasure 

for  me :  I  seldom  went,  and  never  but  to  please  my  sisters 

In  the  fishing  season  I  was  never  missing  from  m/faS 

boat,  and  I  was  a  regular  assistant  in  the  periodical  labours 

of  the  husbandman-at  the  times  when  it  did  not  interfere 

with  my  regular  pursuit.     When  occupied  with  nehher  of 

^TJTl'7^'  ?^*^^^  ^'  my  pleasure  to  stuS^-L  or 
out  of  school,  ,t  made  no  difference  which,  since  my  appH^ 
eauon  suffered  no  abatement  by  a  license  to  go  at  lame 
I  missed  my  httle  instructress  for  a  couple  of  months  inTe 
^ry  depth  of  winter ;  but  she  was  a  bird  of  pLsage  and 
always  returned  with  the  daisy  and  the  robin     sime- 

S  Z^:""-  *^"  T"'^""  ^^^  ^«°^'  '^^  '^^^  to  the  school 
house  even  m  winter,-.a  very  fair  day  almost  invariably 
drew  her  out,-but,  being  of  tender  health,  she  was  seWom 
permitted  to  expose  herself  to  the  winter  air,  and  had^ 
tutor  toattend  her  at  home.     This  was  a  very'unusual  cir^ 

EnXr^nH^'^  T.'^'^^  ^^P^^P'^'  ^'  '^^'  time,  in  New. 
England,^d  created  a  great  deal  of  wonder  and  village 

^S' .. ^'-  ^"'>^  '""^^^^  *h^^  kn«wn  were  "town! 
schools/  mstitutions  which  were  supported  by  a  £6^1 

TTTr  '^^  '"habitants,  creating  a  specific  fu^idou 
^which  the  master  was  paid  for  \Ss  services,  and  the 
charges  for  house-rent,  fire-wood,  &c.  were  defrayed 
A  number  of  the  most  intelligent  men  in  the  Ssh 
^stituted  a  "school-committe'e,"  and  thfs  commS 
determined  the  number  of  children  to  be  sent  and 
by  whom  they  should  be  sent,  taking  care  that  S  most 
indigent  famihe.  should  h^  the  fullest lepreLnted   Xy 


p»'  %^ 


HAVERHILL. 


31 


were,  in  their  original  conception,  nothing  more  than 
charity-schools,  but  the  general  poverty  of  the  people,  and 
iheir  dispersion  over  a  large  tract  of  country,  combined 
to  give  them  a  character  rather  above  that  of  mere 
eleemosynary  institutiomi,  by  intermixing  with  the  children 
of  the  poor  the  children  of  parents  of  a  higher  grade.  The 
influence  these  public  or  town  schools  have  had  on  the 
American  character  has  never  been  fully  appreciated,  if 
fully  comprehended,  by  them.  They  have  contributed 
more  than  any  and  all  other  circumstances  whatever  to 
keep  up  the  equality  which,  theoretically  at  least,  is  the 
keystone  of  that  government.  In  those  schools  all  ranks 
are  intermixed,  and  intimacies  are  there  contracted  which 
assist  on  the  one  hand  in  keeping  down  the  proud,  and  on 
the  other  in  exalting  the  humble.  The  effect  of  the 
assimilation,  caused  by  this  intermixture,  of  the  children  of 
the  poor  with  those  of  a  better  condition,  is  felt  throughout 
American  society. 

During  the  space  ip  which  I  was  deprived  of  the  assist- 
ance of  my  little  preceptor,  I  studied  such  books  as  she 
recommended,  carefully  passing  by  every  page  not  pencil- 
marked  by  her  own  hand.  But  neither  the  occasions  for 
seeking  her  assistance,  nor  the  opportunities  for  obtaining 
it  were  lessened  by  her  temporary  confinement.  She  could 
not,  as  I  said,  come  to  the  school-house,  so  I  was  obliged 
to  go  very  often  to  her  father's  house,  to  consult  her  upon 
various  perplexities  which  occurred  to  me  in  my  studies, 
difficulties  which  thickened,  and  darkness  which  increased 
every  hour.  Sometimes  I  forgot  the  quantity  of  time  in  a 
colon,  and  whether  the  accent,  in  a  certain  supposed  case, 
should  fall  on  the  penult  or  the  antepenult :  and  my  recol- 
lection of  the  spelling  and  pronunciation  of  words  faltered, 
at  times,  most  lamentably,  so  that  I  had  very  often  to  con- 
sult Coles,  and  Sheridan,  and  Bailey,  the  best  editions  of 
whose  dictionaries  were  only  to  be  found  in  the  library  of 
Judge  Danvers.  Then  this  same  library  was  a  treasure 
of  history,  and  history  was  my  delight — it  was  a  study  with 
which  Mary  had  taught  me  to  be  pleased.  I  borrowed 
almost  every  book  in  the  collection,  read  them,  or  found, 
or  pretended  to  find,  cogent  reasons  for  not  reading  them, 
returned  them,  and  sometimes  borrowed  them  again  for  a 


m 


:>\ 


32 


HAVERRILL. 


*■■ 


{<    ^ 


S  »l 


U 


reperusal,  or  to  find  an  opportunity  for  chanffin<»  mv  formp*' 

tTdTckreV'^Tr""*  and  valuefand  hencf  of  gofng  K 
CO  declare  it.  There  was  no  end  to  the  DrPtPv7«  t  ?«  j 
and  the  excuses  I  made  for  visiting  2.isLC?SrI  Zh' 
when  summer  came,  making  the  woods  an  aviafv  and  tS 
meadows  a  carpet,  peopling  the  earth,  the  a"r3lhe  wafer 
with  shapes  of  beauty,  and  filling  them  with  sounds  ofTp  1 
pouT'^g  a  balmy  sei^nity  over  hill  and  vdTtS  2  I 

fisherman^ 

thTcrariiiLVuj^r  rdir  i "'  '^^  '^  ^-^  -' 

sion  to  inducVafoS 
poverty  imposed  upon  me^hard  labour  bothT/tf^lii 

terably  happy  by  the  soft  tones  of  Mary's  voice  and  Z" 
violii,,  and  Ma^r  sangTnl^itaW?"  T'^f,  '"a  ^''^  °"  '^ 

par!ittortr'S:~te„°3r""=''*-^^^"'''''"« 

parent  suffering  from  fever.    sZ^'ZaZS^tl^ 


^.. 


HAVERHILL. 


33 


[rendezvouB,  though  not  so  often  as  before,  and  she 
avoided  me  whenever  she  could.  Once,  whenever  her 
eyes  met  mine,  they  glowed  with  pleasure  at  the  en- 
counter ;  at  the  same  occurrence  now  they  were  quickly 
'  cast  down,  and  her  cheeks  became  suffused  with  blushes. 
I  Formerly,  every  meeting,  even  that  which  took  place  at 
I  the  church-door,  upon  sabbath-days,  was  sure  to  produce 
the  lively  exclamation  of  "  Ah,  Lynn  !"  and  "  k  it  you, 
Lynn  ?"  and  "  How  do  you  do,  Lynn  !"  accompanied  by  a 
good-natured  smile,  and  sometimes  by  a  shake  of  the  hand. 
Sometimes  she  would  find  an  opportunity  to  whisper  some 
little  piece  of  childish  nonsense  about  "  spelling  words  of 
one  syllable,"  and  what  must  be  "  thought  of  a  boy  who 
couldn't  spell — nose — nose  on  his  face."  And  then  she 
would  dart  away  playfully,  holding  up  her  httle  fist,  scarce 
larger  than  a  tolerably  sized  peacn,  in  a  sham  menace  of 
displeasure. 

She  had  not  altogether  discontinued  coming  to  our  ren- 
dezvous ;  but  when  she  came,  and  while  there,  her  dread 
of  somebody — I  could  not  tell  who»  or  some  painful  feeling, 
I  could  not  guess  its  nature, — so  disturbed  her  that  my 
young  affection,  not  yet  known  to  me  by  the  n^me  of  love, 
whispered  tiiat  I  was  doing  wrong  to  court  these  interviews, 
now  so  productive  of  uneasiness  to  the  lovely  girl.  From 
time  to  time  I  tried  to  inspire  myself  with  resolution  to  say 
to  her  that,  since  they  seemf  "■  to  be  the  cause  of  regret, 
and  to  give  her  pain,  it  would  be  best  to  discontinue  them. 
But  when  I^aw  her  and  heard  her  voice ;  when  that  face, 
so  surpassingly  beautiful,  was  before  my  eyes,  and  those 
tones,  so  gentle,  sweet,  and  affectionate,  were  sounding  in 
my  ears,  it  was  more  than  I  could  have  done,  had  a  realm 
been  named  as  the  recompense,  to  speak  of  separation. 
I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  dash  the  cup  of  felicity 
from  my  lips  "  just  yet,"  and  remained  silent.  What  my 
own  resolution  could  never  have  persuaded  me  to  do,  was 
effected  by  hers,  taxed  to  the  act,  as  I  learned  afterward, 
by  the  counsels  or  the  commands  of  her  mother.  But  of 
this  hereafter. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  set  myself  down  to  discover  the 
cause. of  the  change  in  her  behaviour,  and  of  her  visible 
and  increasing  reluctance  to  meet  me.    I  had  surely  given 


// 


» 


34 


HAVERHILt. 


c|.a,e  nor  exZtl'  ^Zf^oS/uZfl  tiT^^^ '"" 
idle-— on  the  cnnimrxr  i  ho  i        i        ^  '  *  "^''  "^t  been 

French  than  T  Z'  done  wUh^aW  Pl^^-^'^-^y  '" 
long  aequatatlce-thrng  »tt-fa^^^^^^  » 

happy,  for'&  couM  S  .V'"^h;:h\ ^''™'''  "^ 
It  IS  out  of  my  power  tc  paint  how  miie- 


able 
and  I 
often 
up  a  1 
to  go 
and  g 
Sleep 
noloi 
nor  ir 
deligl: 
ask  he 
"I 
taugh 
nance 
die  to 
no  m 
'list  ir 
of  al( 

lever 
was  a 
associ 
to  be 
rock  I 
the  ill 
thithe: 
and  I 


Th 

a  half 
my  fs 
south 
with  ! 
maine 
decay 


BIAVERHILL. 


m 


rable  I  became  in  consequence  of  suspicions.    My  days 

and  nights  were  days  and  nights  of  sorrow  and  anguish ; 

aften  1  rose  and  went  out,  returned  and  sat  down,  or  took 

up  a  book,  read  a  page  and  threw  it  by,  or  borrowed  a  gun 

to  go  shooting,  and  left  my  ammunition,  and  once,  the  lock 

and  gunstick  behind  me  :  and  thus  I  would  spend  hours. 

ISleep  forsook  me,  my  appetite  failed  me  ;  I  found  pleasure 

Ino  longer  in  the  books  and  studies  I  had  so  prized  before, 

Inor  in  the  rural  sports  and  exercises  which  were  once  my 

Idelight.    At  length  I  came  to  the  resolution  to  see  her,  and 

laskner  what  was  the  cause  of  her  estranged  behaviour. 

I    "  I  will  go,"  said  I,  "  and  ask  her  if  she  has,  indeed, 

I  taught  herself  to  think,  me  unworthy  of  longer  cbunte- 

1  nance,  but  I  will  speak  in  a  mild,  sweet  voice.     I  should 

die  to  see  her  shed  tears.     If  she  says  *  yes,'  I  will  see  her 

no  more.     I  will  go  on  board  one  of  the  king's  ships,  or 

'list  in  the  army,  and  maybe  get  a  chance  to  die  by  the  side 

of  a  lord's  son ;  and  then  she  will  think  better  of  me." 

I  spent  an  hour  of  one  of  the  finest  August  evenings  that 
I  ever  saw  in  making  myself  thoroughly  miserable.  There 
was  a  particular  spot  where  I  could  call  up  a  set  of  gloomier 
associations  than  elsewhere,  and  to  which,  when  I  wanted 
to  be  very  wretched,  I  always  went.  It  was  a  broad  flat 
rock  upon  the  top  of  a  high  cliff,  which  looked  down  upon 
the  illimitable  expanse  of  ocean.  On  this  night  I  went 
thither  determined  to  conjure  up  maddening  reflections, 
and  I  succeeded  even  beyond  my  expectations. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  mansion  of  Judge  Danvers  stood  about  a  mile  and 
a  half  from  the  ocean,  and  about  the  same  distance  from 
my  father's  cabin.  It  was  fenced  from  the  sea  on  the 
south  and  south-west  by  a  chain  of  low  hills,  once  clothed 
with  stately  oaks,  a  few  lifeless  trunks  of  which  still  re- 
mained, taxing  the  philosopher  to  account  for  their  sudden 
decay  upon  the  spot  where  our  fathers  found  them  flour- 


^  HAVEnniLL. 

ishing  in  all  their  native  vigour  and  maiestv     V...  ♦  •     I 

^es,  many  species  of  which  are  not  now  ^CT    °' 

arable  level,  whiKwnTiTpn?!'''^  *"''  «nd  cminuou. 
of  the  coast,  rnTwherTt'he  arch  Z'^l™'  "i  ^^-y  point 

species  of  trees  oinno?  now  te  made  to^:!::''  """'^'^t'' 
covered  with  densi.  «Jil.      ■    .  /  '°  Sfow,  were  then 

ab„ve.a™:^tTfore^a;r  iX^rSr/hN'"'-'- 
grounds,  upon  the  southern  shorerf  j£w  Fnil  a  .u" 
Pre,uent  y  dig  up  the  stumps  of  red  cedarld  &'';  *^ 

determine  on  death  rather  tho«  „  ♦  ^^"^?*^  ^t  the  soil  to 
their  home  by  stran^^^^^^^^  occupation  of 

thetic  protester  thfvenerlLel^rJnfr'^"  *^"  P^- 

the  scenes  which  thr^e  and  1^^^^ 

enacting  around  them     w/Jlt   i      gnibbm^-hoe  were 

assent  Iven  by  ttwho'^^^^^^^^^^ 

them  to  the  meditatprl  auini^^     -   " "&,^"^  "««  Jite  before 

love  of  life,  nm^Uo~;^fT^-y'f.  <=«"  '■""^X 'he 
over  their  resolution     tI;?!-      ^'     I- *  '""^  prevailing 

.0  the  earth  wX"c;n™K  effort  "tolZ''"  '""l-'  f '?'" « 
bandman  is  laid  at  therrnnf.  „r  J'  1  ■  T  °^^^  •"■»• 
high  wind,  pristrateXm      A  ±  ''•  "  ""=  *«P«  "f  « 

trSiuce  a  thousand  pTctuZueHttfrid!  ?"?'  ^""^  "" 
to  the  last  sad  meelinn.  r.f  Z  ,      j  incidents  to  give  effect 

resolving  on  seff-deSction  '  ""^''  P^P'"""^  '»  *^ 

ho„^s^:^T!::;Li™n'rv'°"f**r'?y  '•»•"■«'  «■« 

getheronlheliS'SSSSreltt 


HAVERHILL. 


[Gardening  had  not  been  much  studied  in  America  at  th^ 

period  of  my  story ;  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century 

I— a  bed  of  tulips  or  a  bush  of  roses  was  absolutely  a 

I  curiosity.     Judge  Dan  vers  had  managed  to  collect  together 

a  greater  variety  of  choice  plants  than  was  elsewhere  to 

I  be  found  in  the  colonies.     The  botanical  garden  attached 

to  the  college  at  Harvard,  Massachusetts,  could  not  boast  of 

I  half  its  variety. 

And  then  its  beauty.     A  pretty  little  diamond  of  a 
rivulet,  fringed    with  wild    grape- vines,    alders,    dwarf 
willows,  and  other  adornments  of  a  natural  watercourse, 
meandered  through  it  for  the  full  space  of  a  rood.     Ap- 
proachmg  the  north-west  angle  of  the  garden,  this  beau- 
tiful little  serpentine  fell  abruptly  over  a  small  precipice, 
forming  a  miniature  cascade  of  singular  beauty.     After 
fretting  and  blustering  for  a  few  rods  further,  like  a  love- 
sick girl,  never  very  seriously  in  anger  at  a  swain,  but  half 
suspected  of  inconstancy,  its  pellucid  little  waves  were 
gathered  again  to  a  single  channel,  and  suffered  to  find  an 
outlet  at  the  foot  of  the  old  larch.    Everv  thina  which 
wealth,  aided  by  tas»,  and  the  counsels 'of  experience 
could  do,  had  been  done  for  this  beautiful  spot ;— it  almost 
realized  the  splendid  dream  which  Lord  Bacon  has  made 
of  a  princely  garden.     Its  jets  d'eau,  statues,  box  trimmed 
intoathousajid  fantastic  shapes,  its  nicely  gravelted  walks, 
and  trelliced  arbours,  were  a  source  of  infinite  wonder  to 
the  poor  simple  colonists.     These  and  other  things  which  a 
true  lover  of  nature  would  regard  with  far  less  pleasure 
than  the  successful  introduction  of  a  rare  exotic,  often  drew 
curious  crowds  to  the  walls,  or  to  gaae,  in  awful  admira- 
tion,  through  the  trelliswork.    And  when  by  chance  the 
gates  were  flung  open,  exhibiting  to  advantage  fringed 
avenues,  a  newly-cropped  lawn,  and  verdant  shrubbery 
the  shoals  of  gaping  boys,  who  gathered  to  the  cheap  ex- 
hibition, would  have  astonished  one  not  before  acquainted 

j  with  the  intense  curiosity  which  burns  in  the  bosom  of  most 

I  Americans. 

I  u  ^^u^^ P.^^'^^  ^f  ^^  '^'^^^^y *^« ^^'^'^ of  North  America 

I  had  been  but  little  studied— the  vast  treasures  she  pos- 

I  sesses  of  botanical  wealth  had  not  then  been  revealed 

to  the  admirers  of  the  most  delightful  of  all  the  natural 

Vol.  1. — 4 


1 


i 


m 


m 


38 


HAVEHHILL. 


lU 


ii  Hi 


JeTl2Lr\e        '  '*!!^'  ^'"^  n»«naged  to'  collect  a' 
great  number  of  rare  indigenous  p  ants.     It  wonlH  h« 
going  too  far  to  impute  the  iLrality  he  ev  need  in  f^min^ 

:?r  r^±^^^;"i>r  4  ^^^  t.anij:=rS^c!!;: 


of  the  pursuit      Then^toi^ive  U  y^:^ ;j ^ ^'^'C 


As   I?e  nnl     r^^"'  '^.'  ?r''^""«  «^  "^  ^^^  ^^  tulips.^ 

hinrof  ?h^'  '  '?'^^''^  P*"^'^"^  ^^c^^'on  to  say  some- 

tning  ot  the  man  who  bore  it.  ^ 

ffui^ed^'nohr/?  in  England.     Distantly  related  toa  distin- 
guished  noble  family,  and  second  cousin  to  a  veteran  tar 

rportbn  oTtrH 'v'h''"""^  ^'"  ^^^"  '^^  war/conrcted 
a  portion  of  the  British  marine  to  victory  and  glorv  he  wn^ 

through  their  interest,  at  an  early  age  aDDoinled  ^n  IT^' 
portant  judicial  office  in  the  co  Jn;^of  Eachletts  "^^^^ 
He  had  married  an  English  lady,  repoiTsaTd  an  tosS 

&  thid''  '"'T^'' ''''  "^'- I^erdittaCne'e  d" 
inirty  thousand  pounds  or  more.     Of  riches  she  h»A  in 

order,  her  mind  was  a  vacuum  of  all,  save  oride  anH  ill 
temper    I  must  not  be  understood  to  ins  nuate  aught  against' 

huSrblu^shV'^r'^?/^'^^  "«"^^"'«"'i «ft^n - 
chiSbpt         '^«'' ^-J'y  «7'"g«'  *^^>f-idiot  speeches,  and 

character  t"?h  7^'  'i"^'"^.  ^^«  ^^  ^""^  ^  ^'^'^rent 
Character  from    that  of  his  wife.     Haughty  by  nature 

and  very  overbearing,  he  was  rendered  ftiU  moVso  by 
officia  power,  which  enabled  him  to  indul<.e  his  tyrannic^ 

inrsru"rt""'R'''^"''^^'P"r^'"^^-^^^^^^ 

m  his  court.     He  was,  nevertheless,  a  man  of  Dowerfni 

mind,  deeply  read  in  the  history  of  his  counV,!  ran  of 
England,  and  perhaps  the  most  profound  juris?  of  his  day 
Though  slovenly  in  his  dress  both  in  and  oitof  cour    ofS 

tSllT^  ""  '^f  ^"""^  ^"  ^  *^^^t  '^^^^  with  diit  and  worn 
threadbare,  and  a  cravat  and  waistcoat  begrimed  wkh  3 
he  yet  afiected  great  parade  in  his  private  livingrand  gra 


*'  ! 


HAVERHILL. 


39 


il  propriefor    of| 
[ed  to   collect  a 
s.     It  would  be 
winced  in  forming 
'nee.     1  am  per* 
nd  vanity,  which 
?  passion  of  the 
to  a  natural  love 
of  as  the  «  Eng- 
i    it  is  pleasant 
an  of  her  report 
•ed  of  tulips. 
)pear  frequently 
on  to  say  some- 

lated  to  a  distin- 
3  n  veteran  tar 
war,  conducted 
d  glory,  he  was, 
)inted  to  an  im- 
sachusetts  Bay, 
lid,  an  hostler's 
:ta  Roanesteed" 
les,  she  had,  in- 
»s  of  the  lowest 
e  pride  and  ill- 
te  aught  against 
often  made  her 
t  speeches,  and 
uite  a  ditferent 
ity  by  nature 
ill  more  so  by  i 
!  his  tyrannical  • 
[nity  and  order 
1  of  powerful 
try,  I  mean  of 
'ist  of  his  day. 
af  court,  often 
dirt  and  worn 
lied  with  snuff, 
fing,  and  gra- 


duated his  expenses  upon  a  scale  of  extreme  magnificence, 
that  is,  colonial  magnificence.  His  equipage  far  surpassed 
any  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  colonies,  his  domestics  wore 
red  collars  upon  green  coats,  and  enormous  cocked  hats 
with  gold  lace  an  inch  broad — altogether,  his  establishment 
was  such  as  to  create  envy  and  uncharitable  surmises. 
To  use  the  New-England  phrase  "  it  made  a  great  deal  of 
talk,"  while  it  did  not  answer  even  the  ordinary  purposes  of 
expense  and  show. 

He  was  not  beloved  ;  for  what  very  protid  man  ever 
was?  yet  he  was  exceedingly  liberal  in  liis  charities  and 
donations ;  for  his  knowledge  of  men  had  early  taught  him 
that  the  liberality  of  the  great  never  fails  to  return  them  a 
handsome  premium  for  the  outlay.  Neither  violent  in  his 
friendships  nor  intemperate  in  his  aversions,  it  could  not  be 
said  of  him,  as  it  was  of  a  dcce,ascd  statesman  whom  he 
wished  to  resemble,  "  that  the  first  drove  him  on  Scylla,  and 
the  second  on  Charybdis."  He  was  the  friend  of  no  man  far- 
ther than  his  own  interests  required,  the  enemy  of  no  man 
after  the  slightest  cause  had  been  shown  why  his  interests 
would  be  injured  if  he  continued  so.  Remind  him  that 
he  would  "lose  money  by  it"  if  he  continued  to  entertain 
a  pique  against  a  particular  person,  and  the  next  day  wit- 
nessed an  overture  for  a  reconciliation.  It  is  a  happy  thing 
to  have  our  passions  at  all  times  schooled  into  diplomatic 
caution,  yet  not  essentially  praiseworthy  if  it  result  from  a 
total  absence  o!  all  feeling  for  our  fellow-creatures,  j^  is» 
no  doubt,  proper  and  just  that  our  benevolence  shoulofBtot 
be  of  too  active  a  kind,  nor  our  sympathy  witfe  thesis- 
tresses  and  sufferings  of  men  lead  us  into  downright  Qtiix- 
otism.  But  God  deliver  me  from  the  "hard  6f  heart" — 
from  those  who  only  look  at  their  fellows  with  a  view  to 
use  them  in  schemes  of  thrift  and  profit.  I  place  many 
degrees  below  the  unreflecting  debauchee  the  griping  and 
grinding  usurer,  and  lower  still  in  the  scale  of  being  the 
breast  devoid  of  social  love  and  pity. 


Ti>-^, ^,. 


I 


40 


nAVERlllLL. 


i:   \ 


CHAPTER  VII. 

God  s  worH  beauWul,  .ublimS,  wonderfof  ISficent  at 
Sm  fJt  ■"""  '1™'''=  "'"■'''^"  '=<"'sed  to  pmduce 

^piendid';st.,^'ir:rdte^^ 


'H     A^ 


HAVERHILL. 


41 


ling,  in  the  latter 
I  found  myself 
mention  has  ao 
t  was  just  sunset 
'  sultry  heats  of 
Jeded  by  one  of 
ning  so  common 
w-England,  and 
vater  called  the 
3nt  strife  of  the 
ids  sinking  away 
yet  glimmered 
ierfully  sublime 
shed  its  bright- 
just  enough  of 
in  the  world  of 
en  I  am  grown 
t)ut  a  thousand, 
ease  the  impri- 
upon  the  rain- 
on  any  other  of 
magnificent  as 
?d  to  leave  the 
i  away,  till  its 
he  cloud.     In 
3  extreme.    I 
father's  cabin, 
Jarance  of  one 
h  a  fiery  blush 
ced  a  shower, 
it  in  the  cloud,     ' 
destroyed  by 
1  to  produce 
henomenon  I 
i^itnessing  the 
)  bounds.    I 


recollect  that  the  only  expedient  to  pacify  me  was  to  pro- 
mise "  I  should  have  it  again  to-morrow." 

I  hud  not  seen  Mary  for  three  weeks.  When  I  last 
saw  her,  her  manner  was  so  hurried  and  agitated  that  I 
collected  resoluti(Mi  enough  to  whisper  of  the  "  fogs,  and  the 
great  colds  which  Drusa  Benbow  caught  by  being  exposed 
to  them."  1  had  now  much,  very  much  to  say  to  her, 
matters  of  primary  importance  to  speak  of,  communica- 
tions to  make  on  various  subjects,  questions  to  put  as  to  the 
government  and  agreentent  of  certain  French  verbs  and 
nouns,  and  whether  •*  ceinture"  in  the  proverb  •*  Bonne  re- 
nomme  vaut  mieuxque  ceinture  doree**  should  be  translated 
sash  or  girdle  !  I  wanted  to  sing  to  her  the  Scottish  air  I 
had  just  learned,  and  I — wanted  to  look  at  her  eyes.  I 
was  also  to  hold  a  dialogue  with  her  upon  the  aforesaid 
matters  and  things,  which  was  to  determine  in  some 
measure  the  course  of  my  future  life,  and  whether  it  was 
now,  or  three  years  hence,  that  I  was  to  become  a  soldier 
or  a  sailor. 

I  arrived  at  the  rendezvous  just  as  the  sun  was  setting. 
Filled  with  an  indescribable  feeling,  I  could  not  tell  whe- 
ther it  was  joy  or  sorrow,  hope  or  fear,  pain  or  perplexity ; 
fluttering  with  an  emotion  which  was  neither  happiness 
nor  unhappiness,  but  entirely  unlike  that  which  is  produced 
by  the  common  distractions  of  human  life,  I  sat  down  to 
await  her  coming,  and  employed  myself  in  tracing  out  the 
proportions  of  a  mighty  temple  in  the  western  clouds,  which 
were  now  lit  up  by  the  glorious  splendour  of  the  setting 
sun,  and  giving  the  same  rich  promise  of  the  "  goodly 
day  to-morrow"  that  so  buoyed  up  the  soul  of  Harry  of 
Richmond.  I  had  erected,  very  much  to  my  satisfaction, 
such  a  Colosseum  as  I  had  seen  in  the  picture-books,  save 
that  one  of  the  columns  wanted  the  "  thing  a-top  the  post," 
or  cornice,  and  had  pulled  it  down  to  try  my  hand  upon  a 
pantheon,  when  I  heard  her  voice,  calling  to  me,  from  a 
low  part  of  the  wall,  "  Lynn  1" 

"  Is  it  you,  Mary  ?"  said  L 

She  did  not  answer,  but  held  up  her  little  white  hand  to 
me  above  the  wall,  beckoning  me  to  her. 

'*  Why  will  you  not  come  out,  Mary  ?"  I  asked. 

"Because  mamma  says  I  must  not.    I  did  n6t  know 

4* 


^    n 


^ 


43 


HAVWIHILL. 


that  I  was  doing  wrong  when  I  saw  you  so  oftpn  »J 
and  Without  the  knovvledge  of  nTv  parent      T^  5  "®' 
k^w  that  I  deserved  to  be^scolded  LTCll^'^:;^ 

"  Do  you  think  the  censure  would  havp  h*.or,  a^         j 

Wever,  but  I  cannot  fee  you  any  more,  Lvnn  •> 
.ce  LTnyCer   ""^  ""<='  *'"'^'    ^"r-nnot  you 

told  you  tha{  as  the  "f„  „f  iron  HirrhT™"!!-     ®''" 
answered  she,  blushing  deeply    "f  am  butT"'^'"^" 

J  told  her  so,  but  she  said  there  raicht  be  othpr  .!,;„ 
learned  at  those  meetings  than  how  to  f eld  boot,  b,7| 


.%. 


I  am  sui 
taught 
then  s 
!  And  si 
met  1 
larch-t 
tened 
tell  pc 
would 

of  the 
ness). 
and  th 
humbl 
ruined 
Bostor 
»I( 
it  onc€ 
time,  t 
his  pre 

"V 

men  ii 
house, 
an  asy 
father, 
for  yej 
armies 
led  ba( 
and  pe 
not  pr< 
bright 

ruled  I 

Mary, 
depth  < 
is  a  gi 
a  glori 
"Bi 
growir 
curbin: 


DAVBRHILL. 


43 


am  sure  I  don't  know  what  she  meant.  I  told  her  I  had 
taught  you  to  read,  and  you  had  taught  me  to  sing,  and 
then  she  shook  her  head,  and  said  'worse  and  worse/ 
And  she  said  papa  would  be  very  angry  if  he  knew  that  I 
met  Lynn  Haverhill  alone,  in  the  evening,  under  the  old 
larch-tree,  and  sat  with  him,  and  sang  with  him,  and  lis- 
tened for  hours  to  his  flagelet.  She  said  she  would  not 
tell  papa  that  I  had  done  so,  if  I  would  promise  that  I 
would  do  so  no  more." 

"  There  spoke  the  shrewd  and  cunning  mother,  fearful 
of  the  fisherman's  son,  Mary  (I  said  this  with  some  bitter- 
ness). But  there  is  a  spirit  of  change  in  all  created  things, 
and  this  is  the  land  in  which  that  spirit  oftenest  elevates  the 
humble  and  depresses  the  proud.  Did  you  ever  see  the 
ruined  house  on  Leader's  Hill,  on  the  great  road  to 
Boston." 

"  I  did,  and  papa  told  me  there  were  great  folks  lived  in 
it  once.  He  said  he  would  tell  me  the  story  some  other 
time,  but  I  have  forgotten  to  ask  him  for  a 'fulfilment  of 
his  promise." 

"  I  will  tell  it  to  you.  The  son  of  one  of  the  proudest 
men  in  Great  Britain  died  in  disgrace  and  penury  in  that 
house.  His  helpless  widow  and  her  orphan  child  found 
an  asylum  in  the  cabin  of  a  man  as  poor  and  lowly  as  my 
father,  and,  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  she  was  supported 
for  years.  The  son  of  their  ignoble  benefactor  entered  the 
armies  of  his  sovereign,  won  glory  and  an  earldom,  and 
led  back  Lady  Jane  Eldingham  into  the  circle  of  peers 
and  peeresses,  an  envied  object.  Who  knows  that  I  may 
not  prop  the  fortunes  of  a  falling  house  yet  ?  I  have  had 
bright  dreams,  Mary  ?" 

"But  dreams  are  fearful  things,  Lynn;  oh  don't  be 
ruled  by  them,"  said  she,  anxiously. 

"Call  them  visions,  then.  I  have  had  bright  visions, 
Mary,  which  have  made  me  spring  from  my  bed  in  the 
depth  of  night,  and  half  fancy  I  had  become  a  hero.  'There 
is  a  great  war  raging  in  the  old  countries,  you  know,  and 
a  glorious  field  opened  for  ambitious  youth  to  shine  in." 

"  But  you  will  not  embark  in  it,  surely  ?"  asked  she, 
growing  pale,  as  I  fondly  thought,  with  apprehension,  and 
curbing  her  tears  with  difficulty. 


ita 


m 


»:■ 


^ 


44 


BAVEHHILI,, 


'I'v.  i 


K  i 


«  As  sure  as  I  am  living  I  will." 

"  Oh,  Lynn,  but  vou  will  not  cross  the  wide  oppan  tr^ 
take  up  the  sword  /or  strangers."  ^^"  *^ 

"  Sjx  months—as  much  sooner  as  may  be— shall  not 
elapse  before  I  will  be  whe,^  the  sharpe^st  swords  are 
PrnT- •'  ^,!?  ^^*^^"?»"«d  to  go,  and  become  the  King  of 
Prussms  sold.er,  and  to  follow  him  in  all  his  ^orlus 

*Kr  ^"^  *''''*  ?^  the  weaker  cause ;  he  is  begirt  with  a 
iJ«"«^»d  enemies.  Oh,  why,if  you  must  beal^ldier  wiU 
you  jom  the  weaker  cause  ?"  a^micr,  wni 

^lorv  i!J^^i^'  "^^^^  ?*^'^'  ^^'  *^^  '^«°"  *»»at  there  is  more 
gory  to  be  won  by  espousing  the  cause  beset  with  the 
most  and  greatest  difficulties.^  He  is  no  true  hero  Jack 

ot  a  hne-of-battle  ship  upon  a  ten-gun  brig." 

But  you  will  be  killed,"  said  she,  restraining  with  diffi- 
culty the  tears  that  were  pleading,  with  all  the  beaut  fi^l 

You  have  told  me  things  since  you  came  here  Marv 
which  steel  my  heart  against  the  fear  of  death.  Tdf'dt^ 
at  this  moment,  hold  my  life  of  a  pin's  value.  A  man  - 
you  smile  even  m  tears,  call  me  boy  then,-whoters  h"^ 
self  ne^ected,  contemned,  spurred,  despised,-^those  a?e 
the  words  which  best  show  the  worid^s  treatment  of  the 
fisherman^s  son,  Mary,-and  knows  it  is  all  bS  e  of  his 
poverty  and  humble  parentage,  will  dare  any  danger  to 
raise  himself  to  the  rank  of  the  scoffer.     Ay,  what  would 

am'tTrVouaT'' Wh'^;'^^ ''  -y  toyour^l^d  fTher  ^I 
am  5  our  equal.     Why  do  you  weep,  Marv »» 

"a ^rf  „  ^L  y°"  '"^  ^°  Sood  and  kind." 

And  are  j»«  not  changed,  Mary?    Alas  I  I  think  «, 
to  me  ,t  seems  there  hasW  a  greater  change  in  vi^^ 

"Oh^f  T"''  ■""'''?  °"  *«  '■'»«  of  "  ^mme^^sea."'^ 
*Uh  no ;  I  am  not  changed." 

"  But  I  am.    I  know  it.'^ 

thl?f^^^^  T  ^''^.•.  ^"'*  "«^  y«»  looked  so  angry  and 
there  was  such  a  withering  frown  on  your  brow  thS'  vm» 

wit  U  Lthffirsf  1  ^  '^^  '    ^^"  -^  '^  cau"^ht2ct! 
wiieo  It  IS  the  first  I  ever  saw  you  wear.    And  when  yoj 


"I 


BAVERHILL. 


45 


e  wide  ocean  to 


spoke  of  death  and  danger,  and  all  you  would  do  to  obtain 
renown,  I  thought  of  the  brave  knights  and  paladins  we 
were  reading  about  in  Froissart's  Chronicles,  as  we  sat 
together  in  papa's  library,  the  winter  before  the  last.  It 
was  their  wont,  you  remember,  to  put  themselves  in  the 
hottest  of  every  battle,  that  they  might  gain  a  name,  and 
win  the  love  of  ladies  and  the  praises  of  minstrels.  Often- 
times they  were  killed  from  trying  to  do  impossible  feats. 
But  I  cannot  stay  any  longer — indeed,  I  fear  I  shall  be 
missed  now.  I  must  not  come  here  to  meet  you  any  more ; 
but  we  shall  see  each  other  for  all  that.  You  always  go 
to  church,  and  now  I  will  go  every  Sunday  instead  of 
once  or  twice  a  month,  as  I  used  to  do,  and  we  shall  see 
eacli  other,  though  we  may  not  speak." 

"  You  are  forbidden  to  speak  to  me  then.  Farewell, 
Mary,  and  for  ever ;  you  shall  never  see  poor  despised 
Lynn  Haverhill  any  more.  Farewell,  and  may  God  bless 
you." 

"  But  you  will  not,  cannot  go,  Lynn,  and  in  anger.  I 
have  given  you  no  cause  to  be  angry,"  said  she,  giving 
way  to  a  deep  and  hysterical  passion  of  tears.  "  I  cannot 
disobey  my  parents,  and  bring  down  their  curse  upon  my 
head.  It  is  not  of  my  own  inclination  that  I  am  not  to 
meet  you  any  more.  Oh,  no,  Lynn,  oh,  no !"  and  she 
wept  bitterly.  "  I  did  not  think  you  would  have  been 
angry  with — little  Mary — her  for  whom  you  did  so  many 
kind  things,  when  she  was  little  and  timid,  and  could  not 
do  them  for  herself." 

"I  am  not  angry  with  you,  heaven  knows  I  am  not 
angry  with  you,"  said  I,  striving  to  calm  her.  "  But  I 
was  miserable,  and  I  spoke  in  the  bitterness  of  my  heart. 
You  know  not — may  you  never  know — the  suffering  which 
the  proud-spirited  endure,  when  they  feel  themselves  the 
object  of  scorn  and  contempt." 

"  And  you  can  forget  Mary,  and  all  the  brotherly  |ind 
sisterly  love  which  has  passed  between  us  ?" 

"  That  can  never  be.  But  hear  me  patiently  for  a  few — 
very  few  minutes,  Mary.     I  am  twenty." 

"Not  quite,  Lynn.  You  will  not  be  twenty  till  the 
seventeenth  day  of  October  next,  I  took  down  your  age 
from  your  father's  Bible,  when  I  came  down  wTith  mamma 


M 


46 


HATBRHILL. 


B 


!    * 


to  look  at  the  stranded  bark.    I  know  I  am  right.    I  have 

smile  Crv-'f*"^ '  ^""^  "^"^  y°"  smile,-yours  is  a  sweet 

rvon^^i '  i  "  1^"  '^"^  ?"r  ^"^  ^^^«  «<>  «weet  a  smile 
as  yours.     1  should  scarcely  be  so  bold  as  to  ooen  mv 

.hnf  '"^  ^uV'^'^'  ^"  ^'"^  b-^th  so  young,  if    did  nS'knTw 

'' You  Will  go  then,  and  I  shall  never  see  you  more 

t?ieJfe"-!!:tr.o  «"'  \  ''"'  ^^^^  y^"  should  ^shT-!: 
Mary  r         ^         ^^  ^'°'"  ^'^^^  ^^'"^'^  ^^^  from-little 

Marltlnv^T''^  VT""^  T''  ^"*  ^^^  ^  no^^'e  purpose. 
tlL  Cradle  nn-.^''''^'J^^"^  >'^"  ^^^''  since  vou  left 
h„t^S-  y""''®^  y°"  ^^^"  yo"  was  a  little  girl,  chasina 
thpif ff ''  ^"^  '''^•"^u*°  P'^y  ^'th  the  stars.^  1  thouTh? 
wrshedTd'irj  Th  '^'-^  ''  P^^"y  ''  ^he  little  g  ri  X 
Xn  a tth^n^^l^h"'''  °"^  ^f  ^'^^  bank  of  snow,  and 
wnen,  at  the  age  of  three  years,  you  held  up  your  little  fi^t 

bosom     uThT"^^fu   "f  ^^"''"S  "h-t  possessed  my 
riX  M«.l  1  !!    "'""  u*""- '  ■<=™  <=»"  this  feeling  hy"^ 

»dinreinsr  ts^!r£?i^^^^^^ 

ffratifiiHp   fo,.  !;       ^1     •  "^""g^t  it  for  a  long  time  mere 


I  JVi 


*— ■tigOl-Bgr 


""v^feSK^i 


HAVSRniLL. 


47 


part  of  our  dialogue,  and  taking  her  trembling  but  passive 
hand  in  mine,  I  said — 

"Mary,  can  you  find  it  in  your  heart  to  promise  me  one 
thing?" 

"  And  what  is  that,  Lynn  ?" 

« I  am  about  to  leave  my  home— about  to  tear  myself 
from  all  I  love,  m  gearch  of  riches  and  glory.  If  I  win 
them — if  I  become  known  and  respected,  will  you  share 
them  with  me?  Will  you,  sweet  Mary!  beloved  girl! 
marry  me,  when  I  have  wiped  awav  the  stain  of  being 
poor,  and  made  men  forget — good  dod  !  my  father  and 
mother  V* 

"  If  I  say  yes,"  answered  the  sweet  creature,  leaning 
gently  upon  the  arm  which  encircled  her,  "  you  will  so  ex- 
pose yourself  to  win  the  baubles  you  are  mistaken  in  sup- 
posing I  covet,  that  I  shall  never  see  you  again,  unless  it  be 
a  ghastly  corpse.  But  I  will  put  my  trust  in  heaven.  When 
that  time  comes  I  will  many  you.  Go,  Lynn  Haverhill ; 
make  yourself  agreeable  to  my  parents ;  let  them  see  you 
a  brave,  honourable,  and  honoured  man,  admired  for  your 
good  conduct,  and  respected  for  your  probity ;  and  then 
come  back  and  claim  the  hand  of  her  who,  if  her  parents 
would  give  their  consent,  would  marry  you  were  you  never 
to  know  another  than  your  humble  lot.  I  must  go.  If  it 
must  be  so,  farewell !" 

"  Farewell !  sweet  Mary ;  and  yet  not  so  soon,  since  it 
is  for  the  last  time.  Will  you  not  forget  your  promise, 
tempted  as  you  will  be  by  offers  of  rich  and  noble  alliances 
—backed  by  the  entreaties,  perhaps  enforced  by  the 
threats  of  your  parents?" 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  question  my  faith,  Lynn,  or 
doubt  my  promise,  when  once  given,"  said  she,  half  re- 
proachfully. 

"  It  is  not  your  faith  I  doubt,  dearest  Mary,  but  your 
firmness  to  resist  what  will  be  the  wishes  of  your  parents. 
I  shall  go  far  from  you— perhaps  for  years  you  will  not 
know  wheth^  I  am  in  the  land  of  the  dead  or  the  living. 
Ypu  will  grow  up  still  more  beautiful,  and  you  will  be  rich. 
But  I  will  entertain  neither  doubts  nor  fears  ;  I  will  rely 
on  your  word.  One  kiss,  Mary,  only  one."  I  enfolded  the 
lovely  girl  in  my  arms,  imprinted  on  her  rosy  lips  the  first 
kiss,  and  bade  her  adieu. 


,T|I 


If  'i 


48 


havbshill. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
»U  K  k  ^^^^y  ^T.®  '  revolved  in  my  mind  the  many  nlana 
H  the  truth  must  be  spoken,  the  gaining  of  Mary  Danver. 
onl  nl'"  T°Tf  "^^^  ^"^'^  f«r  meditation^the  fixing 

coollftitiff'-'f  ^"^^'"^  °"^'«««^^-  To  form! 
whpn  ?i?  ^T^^^^^  judgment,  we  must  choose  a  moment 
when  tho  elements  are  still-earth,  air,  and  skies^^est 

SvVanauf^r'  ^^^'  ^\' j"^'^'-^  --'-"  -""be 
wise  ?  T  hnv3  [r  ?'^?"  '\^^  '^  when  nature  is  other- 
wise {  1  have  often  tried  to  think  in  bad,  dirty  disaxrrPP 
able  weather,  but  never  was  able  to  do  1;^^  Sc" 
tion.  A 1  my  worthiest  resolves  were  conceiveS  a  nlen«" 
ant  condmon  of  the  atmosphere ;  and  Trupon  ^fich  f 
most  pride  myself,  in  a  beautiful  June  mon^^rwTth  the 
wind  west-north-west,  and  only  just  enouSi  o?  k  to  set 
the  meadows  and  cornfields  a  dancing.       ^  T 

I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  made  up  my  mind  to  ira 
home,  and  acquaint  my  dear  parents  with  my  ^iTh  to  lea?e 
^?n\  ^!k  "''^'''  ^^""  '"^^"^••^ted  such  a  thing  to  them^ 
but  I  knew  they  were  not  wholly  unprepared  fofit  havi^/ 
thIr,htT  ^^f«f' overheard  n^.  mother  say  trml  fS' 
voyage'    ''^''*'^  '"^'^  ^^^  ^  ^^"'^  ^^  ^org^^g^ 

^L^  *    h  ^Pftf^^nt  in  which  the  family  usually  as 
bed  Le     In^t!"'^"'''  "'  .''"'^<'  ^°  ^-o"'  ""dTn  eX 


/ 


HAVKRHILL. 


49 


these  fires  at  least  a  fbrtnight  earlier.  At  these  several 
periods  in  the  respective  climates,  tfce  weather  has  become 
so  cold  that  the  summer  garb  is  not  sufficient — the  body, 
at  certain  hours,  needs  further  protection — an  additional 
garment  after  nightfall,  to  fence  it  against  the  keen  air  of 
the  valleys  and  lowlands.  There  are  very  few  houses 
found  in  that  region  which  are  not  warmed  by  wood  fires, 
in  the  principal  apartments,  as  early  as  the  first  of  October ; 
and  before  the  close  of  the  month  they  are  generally 
throughout  the  day.  Habit,  however,  has  quite  as  much 
to  do  with  the  custom  as  the  atmosphere.  The  abundance 
of  wood  growing  on  the  land,  and  the  necessity  there  is 
for  ridding  the  ground  of  the  incumbrance  previous  to  the 
putting  in  of  crops,  have  led  to  the  effeminate  and  enervating 
practice  of  keeping  up  large  fires  nine  months  in  the  year. 
This  is  probably  the  reason  why  the  Americans  are, 
generally,  less  hardy  than  other  inhabitants  of  high  north- 
ern latitudes.  I  have  frequently  seen  them  flinch  from  a 
blast  which  had  no  effect  upon  the  nerves  even  of  a  with- 
ered and  sallow  Spaniard,  though  he  came  from  the  sultry 
climate  of  Yucatan. 

My  family  had  finished  their  homely  meal,  on  the  even- 
ing of  my  interview  with  Mary,  before  I  came  in.  The 
hours  at  which  a  New-England  family,  of  the  middling 
class,  take  their  meals,  are  singularly  primeval  and  patri- 
archal. Breakfast,  in  summer,  is  taken  at  six,  and  in  winter 
at  eight  o'clock ;  dinner,  the  year  round,  at  twelve  ;  and 
tea,  generally  denominated  by  them  "  supper,"  and  the  last 
meal  of  the  day,  at  five  or  six,  unless  it  be  put  off  a  little 
for  the  master  to  finish  some  "job."  Nor  are  the  hours  ma- 
terially later  with  those  who  consider  themselves  magnates. 
I  have  known  of  their  dining  at  one,  and  once  or  twice  as 
late  as  two  o'clock,  but  it  was  a  very  unusual  and  unpopular 
arrangement,  and  drew  down  a  deal  of  censure  and  asper- 
sion upon  the  heads  of  those  who  had  dared  to  make  it. 

But  though  my  mother,  to  use  the  American  phrase,  had 
"  cleared  away,"  or  removed  the  tea  things,  she  had  not  been 
unmindful  of  the  absent.  My  share  ot  the  repast,  a  pint 
pitcher  full  of  that  common  drink  of  the  New-England 
poor,  "  ginger  tea,"  a  piece  of  "  johnny,"  or  hoe-cake,  the 
half  of  a  roasted  mackerel,  and  a  small  slice  of  gingerbrea<i^ 

Vol.  I.— 5 


i 


50 


HAVEnillLL. 


again,,fuppo.eWcTu?,'rMal1ieTv    n^:^^^ 
way  of  getting  rid  of  it  "  ^  ^*  "° 

Tet  the  S;,ffJ.  '"'•''''"g  "'«'"•  "^  «"«  does  a  dead  pig  to 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Mike,"  said  my  fether    «  And  vou  I 
too  Jenny,  if  you  please ;  let  my  po<>r  boy  eat  hif  "uoDcr 

n      IteTjetdld'Tef  n'"""  '°™  ""^  '^"^"- 
«nd  avocations  o?  those  IZ'  r7  f^^^'of  ">«  habit. 

hewe™of„ood:l^''drjt7.^a  t  o'JhS^^^^^ 

tion  general  and  common  to  all  the  poorer  classes  of  S" 

you  will  .ee  them  emploTed  in'tetn^S:;  eve':,!,'"; 
Ine  Americans  are  not  a  s^nrial  r^^^^i^     7  .i  ^^^^".''^gs. 


'/ 


HAVERHILL. 


SI 


round  table,  not 
i  set  in  the  chim. , 
coming. 

■ed,  "  now,  where  I 
0  hours  and  more 
ter  you  had  been 
n  that  Jone  rock 
eve  if  there  is  no 

pon  it,"  said  the 
It  a  cunning  old 
le  rocks  run  hke 
2s  a  dead  pig  to 

ler.  «  And  you 
K  eat  his  supper 
3'Jl  take  it  better 


« 
•epared  to  break 
my  leaving  the 
^e  and  kindnesw 
ait  of  the  habita 
ippointed  to  be 
ir  more  favour- 
a  simple  sketch 
vening.     In  so 
ness  my  father 
'ith  that  excep. 
lasses  of  New- 
ensive  marine 
ior.    It  is  thus 
nter  evenings, 
et  they  visit  a 
ortionofthem 
:ake  their  hats 
stroll  out  to  a 
the  crops  and 
fallen,  sinners 
n  they  return 
:d  by  a  couple 
vo  youngest," 


I 

5 


has  made  her  call  goon  after  dinner,  so  that  a  constant  in- 
tercourse is  kept  up,  and  visits  paid  and  reciprocated. 
These  are  the  occasions  when  scandal  circulates  most 
freely,  and  Rumour  is  most  busy  with  her  hundred 
tongues ;  these  are  the  times  when  most  mischief  is  done, 
and  most  reputations  "  scalped."  No  people,  perhaps,  have 
a  stronger  propensity  to  decry  their  neighbours  than  the 
inhabitants  of  a  New-England  village.  Yet  I  may  well  de- 
mand when  are  people  living  in  the  country  otherwise  ? 

Before  I  speak  of  the  employments  of  my  family  on 
that  evening,  let  me  describe  the  building  in  which  1  wag 
born.  This  miserably  poor  and  crazy  cabin  was,  in  height, 
but  a  single  story  of  seven  feet.  Originally  it  consisted  of 
two  apartments  on  the  ground  floor,  a  front  room  and  a 
kitchen.  To  this  building  various  additions  had  been  made 
from  time  to  time,  as  the  occurrence  of  some  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance supplied  my  father  with  the  means  to  make 
them.  About  the  time  of  my  brother  James's  birth  a 
French  brig  ran  on  the  rocks  below  his  cabin,  and  his  share 
of  the  booty  (my  readers  are  probably  aware  that  it  is 
accounted  no  sin  to  plunder  a  wrecked  vessel — a  "  god- 
send") enabled  him  to  add  a  porch.  Soon  after,  a  dead 
whale,  with  a  harpoon,  marked  "Hezekiah  Coffin,  Nan- 
tucket," sticking  in  it,  came  on  shore,  and  my  father  was  the 
lucky  finder ;  tne  blubber  enabled  him  to  add  a  large  dor- 
mitory, in  the  form  of  a  projection,  called,  in  America,  a 
"  salt-box ;"  the  architectural  designation  is,  I  believe,  a 
"  lean-to."  This  latter  apartment,  rough  as  unplaned  deal 
could  well  be,  unplastered,  and  lighted  only  by  two 
windows  of  twenty-four  by  sixteen  inches,  was  occupied 
by  my  sisters  as  their  sleeping-room.  The  garret,  or  attic, 
was  appropriated  to  various  and  discordant  uses.  It 
served  as  a  store-room  for  the  implements  of  our  business — 
the  seines,  nets,  hooks,  &c.  as  well  as  the  usual  lumber  of 
our  family,  and  it  was  also  the  bedchamber  of  myself  and 
my  brothers.  Our  winter's  provision  of  dried  fish  was 
piled  up  in  one  corner,  and  in  another  stood  the  barrel  of 
pork,  which  occasionally  furnished  a  garnish  to  our  dinner 
of  bass,  or  perch,  or  other  "  pan-fish,"  as  they  called  those 
kinds  which  are  deemed  most  palatable  when  cooked  by 
frying  them.    My  father  and  mother  slept  in  the  "  room,*  - 


Lft'-'iii 


li 


iiimm: 

¥    iS: 

If  li 


52 


nAVCRiiiLL. 


handle/but  uT  ™b;^^y tlersTketn'lh^''''"": ,  "»*«  " 

tion  of  time  and  "  buttered  fingers  ''tmnthpT       ""P"'^; 
the  trade,  those  left  were  butSvv  nl'    ^^*^, '^?g"«gf  of 
the  opinion  of  mv  mother  nrd  hi     P''^^^^"^  ^^o^-ned,  in  i 
sl^dve^s      Ther"^rat[h:r^^^^^^^^  ' 

room,  formed  by  fasteninL'  the  ends  of.  Ti     ,  .     *u^ 


ij 


1. — 


I  a  New-England 

called,  and  a  low 
be  hi(l<len  by  the 
f)ed,  was  my  little 

The  ordering  of 
is  was  of  a  piece 
s  of  the  roughest 
al  board  lined  the 
When  1  inform 
th  wind  blew,  did 
is  wainscot  njay 
J-dried  ceiling,  at 
>ins  were  driven, 
ils  of  rope,  guns, 
ets  of  the  male 
ther  articles  too 
d  over  the  fire- 
ly  displayed  my 
.    The  remnant 
1  had  been  pre- 
led  vessel  some 
and  toddy  jug, 
father,  Captain 

occasioned  the 
'amping,"ofthe 
ellis-work  fruit- 
Ithout  nose  or 
•  necklaces  and 
at  least  twenty 
i  by  the  opera- 
he  language  of 
IS,"  adorned,  in 
those  precious 
middle  of  the 

board  to  the 
Hiis  shelf  was 
ions  other  im- 
conomy. 
flight  descrip- 
eader,  for  the 
young,  when 


nAVERHILL.  M 

the  fireplace  took  up  nearly  one  side  of  an  apartment. 
Iiiiinonso  fireplaces  were,  at  fills  period,  universally 
in  iiw  in  the  kitchen  or  cooking  apartment,  and  chiefly  in 
tho  parlours.  Capacious  to  a  dogree  which  niadc  them 
siii;,Mil.irly  ronvenient  in  very  cold  weather,  whon  a  whole 
family  could  assemble  within  one,  they  were  upheld  by  all 
classes,  till  the  alarmed  woods,  which  they  were  so  rapidly 
converting  into  ashes,  sent  in  a  petition  for  tlnir  suppres- 
sion. It  was  economy,  not  convenienne  or  pn-ihrnnre^ 
which  substituted  for  the  old-fashioned  chiifmey-i  >rner  Hue 
singularly  incommodious  fireplace  now  in  use,  whi«h  may 
pretend  to  more  beauty,  no  doubt,  but  lacks  entirely  tlie 
cliitposil ion  to  promote  social  chat,  and  produce  the  beer 
and  ale  which  belonged  to  the  ancient  fireplaces. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

In  one  of  these  same  old-fashioned  chimney-corners  sat 
my  mother,  deeply  intent  on  mending  some  article  of 
ruined  apparel ;  if  I  remember  right,  it  was  her  linsey- 
woolsey  or  "  fall  gown."  In  the  opposite  corner  sat  my 
father  and  eldest  brother,  employed  in  repairing  the  rents 
in  a  fishing-seine.  My  little  brother  Michael  was,  as  usual, 
ardently  engaged  in  miniature  ship-building,  "rigging  a 
schooner,  to  go  first  to  the  Labrador,  for  fish,  and  then  to 
the  West  Indies,  for  oranges."  My  two  other  brotjbers 
were  engaged  in  the  construction  of  a  weir,  to  be  used  in 
the  taking  of  eels.  Only  one  of  my  sisters  was  at  home, 
the  rest  were  at  service,  and  she  was  sewing — for  pride 
and  vanity  being,  after  all,  but  relative  terms,  will  find  their 
way  into  the  most  obscure  dwelling — upon  some  article 
of  finery  intended  to  catch  the  eyes  of  the  rustic  beaux, 
with  whom  she  was  a  great  favourite,  upon  the  ensuing 
sabbath.  Bill  Kyamas,  an  Indian,  a  little  older  than  my- 
self, brought  up  in  our  house  till  the  age  of  fourteen,  and 
just  returned  from  a  visit  to  his  tribe,  sat  relating  witch  and 
goblin  stories  with  all  the  proverbial  creduUty  of  hii  race; 

5* 


u 


f 


54 


HAVERHILL. 


W" 


rnhl^iT^'i^^^  1^^* '  ''^^"'^  ^«"^^y  «"  idea  of  the  diffi. 
culties  I  found,  and  the  odd  ways  I  tried  to  make  known  to 
nny  parents  the  resolution  I  had  formed  to  leave  them.     I 
tried,  several  times,  to  find  words  for  the  revealment  of  mv 
purpose,  but,  as  the  bashful  lover  said,  when  relating  the 
story  of  his  attempt  to  declare  his  love  to  its  object,  -  some- 
th  ng  kept  rising  in  my  throat  continually,  and  I  couldn't." 
I  thought,  at  first,  I  could  tell  my  storv  much  better,  and 
find  words  niore  tender  and  appropriate,  if  I  were  seated 
at  the  side  of  my  mother,  and  I  removed  the  settle  thither. 
IJut,  unfortunately  she  put  her  arm  round  my  neck,  and 
teed  my  forehead,  "to  pay,"  she  said,  "for  having  scolded 
me,   a  circumstance  which  shed  such  an  unmanly  softness 
over  my  heart,  that  I  am  sure,  if  it  had  been  to  save  my 
We,  I  could  not  have  made  the  disclosure,  without  first 
mdu  gmg  m  a  passion  of  tears.     Finding  that  every  mo- 
ment  was  still  further  unfitting  me  for  my  purpose,  I  got 
up  and  went  out,  to  gaze  upon  that  which  has  more  power 
to  soothe  an  afflicted  spirit  than  any  other  of  the  works  of 
Sod,  sublime  and  beautiful  as  they  all  are,  the  serene  and 
tranquil  sky,  with  all  its  starlit  and  azure  glories.     After  a 
few    mmutes  devoted  to  rapturous  observation  of  the 
wondrous  celestial  phenomena  and  apparatus  of  light,  and 
to  a  duty  it  were  somewhat  pharasaical  to  name,  I  re- 
turned  strengthened,  as  I  thought,  and  with  sufficient  reso- 
lution  to  break  the  ice  of  my  secret.    Taking  a  seat  by  my 
father,  I  b^ged  him  to  let  me  assist  him.     He  answered 
me  with  a  good-natured  slap  on  the  shoulder,  « that  he  did 
not  need  my  servi^ces  "  and  that  - 1  might  venture,  for  once 
in  my  life,  to  sit  still  for  five  minutes."    At  length,  thinking  i 
there  was  no  better  way,  in  such  a  case,  than  plunging 
into  the  "midst  of  things"_I  don't  like  lekmed  p5e| 
or  I  would  give  it  m  the  Latin  of  its  author,  Horace,  I 
mustered  sudden  courage  and  said  « I  wish  to  do  what  I 
can  for  you  before  I  leave  you." 

Never,  perhaps,  was  a  pte«e'of  news  more  awkwardly 
communicated.  It  had  the  effect,  however,  to  awaken  the 
instantaneous  attention  of  the  group,  to  excite  laughter  in 
aonae,  and  surprise  m  all.  ^ 


HAVERHILL. 


55 


1 


"  What  does  the  boy  mean  ?"  asked  my  father  and  mo- 
ther in  the  same  breath.  My  brothers  laid  down  their 
work  and  looked  earnestly  and  inquiringly  into  my  face, 
and  my  sister  drew  the  calimanco  petticoat,  upon  which 
she  was  sewing,  to  her  eyes,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"What  do  you  mean,  my  son?"  again  inquired  my 
father. 

"  Mean — I  mean  my  dear  kind  parents, — with  your  con- 
sent, I  have  not  the  heart  to  do  it  without, — to  try  my  for- 
tune in  some  other  pursuit  than  that  in  which  it  has  been 
your  kind  pleasure  to  bring  me  up." 

"  Then  it  is  your  wish  to  leave  us :  to  leave  your  poor 
old  father  and  mother,  just  as  old  age  is  creeping  upon 
them  ?"  said  my  mother,  half  reproachfully. 

"  Who  put  this  notion  into  your  head,  my  son  V  said  my 
father,  surveying  me  affectionately.  "Come,  tell  me  who 
put  this  figary  into  your  silly  noddle  ?" 

"  You  need  not  ask  him,"  said  my  mother ;  "  I  am  cer- 
tain it  was  young  Doctor  Gamaliel.  The  last  time  I  saw 
him, — it  was  but  yesterday  two  weeks,  at  Captain  Spun- 
yarn's, — he  said  'it  was  a  pity  that  a  lad  of  Lynn's 
talents  and  learning  should  waste  his  time  dodging  along 
shore  in  a  fish-boat.*  •  Let  him,'  said  he,  ♦  be  off  in  one  of 
the  king's  cruisers,  though  it  be  but  as  a  powder-monkey, 
and  I'll  be  sworn  he  commands  her  before  he  is  five-and- 
twenty.  Oh,  he  is  a  brave  lad,  and  then — such  a  heart  T 
The  young — young  fop — I  won't  call  him  names,  I'll  only 
say  he  is  a  very  bad  man.  But  I'll  give  him  a  piece  of 
my  mind,  I'll  read  him  a  new  leaf  out  of  an  old  book,  I 
will,  the  very  first  time  I  see  him." 

"  I  am  sure  it  was  some  of  Tom  Phipps's  men-of-war 
yarns  which  is  about  to  set  Lynn  upon  a  wild-goose  chase," 
said  Timothy. 

"  More  like,  it  was  that  meddlesome  old  wretch,  Jack 
Reeve,"  said  James,  warmly;  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  father, 
ay,  and  mother  too,  for  you  are  Jack's  chief  supporter,  the 
very  next  time  I  see  him,  I'll  tell  him  that  I  believe  what 
he  said  about  the  Irish  people  making  soft  soap  out  of  fog 
and  drinking  gin  from  a  ram's-hom  are  both  great  lies.  I 
long  to  quarrel  with  him." 

"  It  was  not  the  doctor,  nor  Tom  Phipps,  nor  Jack  Reeve, 


)  !l 


{ 


,  *tt«lC  "^'^Hf^ 


! 


56 


HA.VERHILL. 


who  has  been  talking  to  Lynn,  and  advising  him  to  eo 
away;  but  I  can  guess  who  it  was,"  said  Jenny,  reproach- 
luiJy.  And  she  gave  me  a  look  which  plainly  indicated 
that  she  was  mistress  of  my  secret,  so  far  as  to  suppose  that 
Mary  JJanvers  was  m  some  way  or  other  the  cause  of  mv 
resolution  to  leave  my  home. 

"I  know  what  the  reason  is,"  said  Michael,  putting  on 
ft  very  wise  look.  «  Mother,  last  night  you  gave  me  a  much 
larger  slice  of  gingerbread  than  you  gave  him,  and  he  was 
mad  as  a  March  hare.  I  saw  it  at  the  time.  And  this 
morning,  nothing  would  do  but  you  must  give  me  grand- 
father s  silver  spoon,  when  you  know,  he  bling  the  bigger 
and  older  boy  ought  to  have  had  it,  so  he  had.  Mother! 
be  ashamed  of  you,  so  I  be." 

"Your  son,  my  parents,"  said  I,  "never  yet  moved 
b hndly  at  the  bidding  of  anyone.     I  may  say  without  va- 

TJu  J  *^'"''  .^T  ^"T  '^  ^^  ^6  tr"^'  that  in  so  far  as 
my  humble  pursuit  has  afforded  me  opportunities  to  call 
nto  action  the  energies  of  my  own  mind,  and  use  them  for 
the  direction  of  others,  I  have  rather  led  than  followed. 
No  one  has  advised  me  to  leave  you,  many  have  said  do 
not.  The  thought  to  leave  you  was  my  own,  and  never 
came  trom  the  counsels  or  suggestions  of  any  one." 

feee  what  became  of  your  uncles  who  ventured  out 
just  as  you  wish  to  do,"  said  my  father.     «  Brother  Nathan 
who  went  to  Squam  to  keep  school,  licked  a  boy  too  hea' 
Jily,  and  to  pay  for  it  laid  in  jail  six  months  in  the  winter 
season,  and  came  out  with  a  rheumatism,  which  laid  him 

ZlZ  r.r?'  ^u""^'  '^^?  ^^"*  *^  Holmes  Hole,  was 
p  eked  by  the  Jews  there  as  clean  as  a  whistle,  and  Nathan, 
as  I  have  heard,  led  such  a  life  with  the  Sag-harbour  wi 
dow,  that  he  finally  died  with  mortification--L  his  1^ 
caused  either  by  grief  or  the  scratch  of  a  rusty  nail-thi' 
doctor  never  knew  wh  ch.  Seeing  that  they  all  came  to 
naught,  why  do  you  Mish  to  leave  us." 

"Ay,  why  do  you  wish  to  ]<  ave  us  ?"  responded  hit 
mother,  and  each  of  them  tenderly  took  a  hand  ^ 

both^nTbTear  ^''"  ^'"^  *'  ^""'  '"^  '™  ' "  ^^^^  ^'^'^ 

"Kind  to  me?    Oh  how  kind!    Never  had  a  son  more 

affectionate  parents  than  mine  have  been  to  me.    F?oL 

1 


I 


HAVERHILL. 


67 


the  hour  when,  a  little  child,  I  could  only  move  by  the 
chairs  to  the  present  minute,  your  kindness  and  tender- 
ness have  never  known  any  abatement.  May  Almighty 
God,  my  beloved  parents,  bless  and  preserve  you  for  it  1" 

"  Then  why  leave  us,  my  son  ?"  said  my  father. 

He  paused  for  a  reply,  but  finding  his  question  remain 
unanswered,  he  resumed. 

"  Do  we  want  bread  ?  Oh  no.  Our  food  is  coarse,  it 
is  true,  but  it  is  wholesome,  and  we  have  always  plenty  of 
it.  The  unceasing  labour  and  hard  knocks  by  which  we 
earn  it  give  us  health  and  an  appetite  to  enjoy  it,  and 
add  a  relish  to  our  coarse  Indian  bannock,*  ginger-tea,  and 
roasted  mackerel,  which  is  lacking  to  the  banquets  of  those 
who,  to  use  the  words  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  are  fed  with 
rich  dainties  and  sit  in  the  king's  gate." 

"  Most  true»  my  dear  and  excellent  father,"  said  I. 

"  "Was  there  ever  a  healthier  family  of  children  than 
mine  have  been  ?  We  have  had  six  sons,  and  three  daugh- 
ters— they  are  all  living,  or  were  on  the  last  Sabbath,  and 
there  has  not  been  four  hours  illness  in  our  house  since  the 
day  that  I  brought  your  mother  into  this  humble  cabin  a 
bride." 

"  All  thi"*  is  true,  my  father,"  said  I. 

"  If  it  is  true,  why  do  wish  to  leave  us  ?  why  do  you 
wish  to  exchange  a  course  of  life  which  has  made  your 
old  father  happy,  for  one  which,  if  I  guess  your  choice, 
may  conduct  you  to  an  early  grave,  and,  at  all  events,  can 
lead  to  nothing  better  than  I  have  found  in  a  lowly 
sphere !" 

"  Remember  Dick  Ratlin,"  said  my  mother.  "  He  left 
home  a  steady  and  virfuous  youth  as  you  could  wish  to 
see,  and  he  died  on  the  Tyburn  gallows,  according  to  all 
accounts,  one  of  the  most  horrid  reprobates  that  ever 
lived." 

"  I  am  not — never  shall  be  Dick  Ratlin,  my  dear  mo- 
ther," said  I. 

"  Remember,"  said  James,  "  what  Jack  Reeve  was 
?"  they  asked    H  telling  us  last  evening  about  Bob  Short,  the  Lancashire 


man. 


'>% 


Indian  bannock,  a  cake  made  of  the  flour  of  Indian  corn. 


58 


BAVERHILL. 


h  ' 


ft. 


i'       < 


Oh  don  t  name  that  meddlesome  old  wretch,  Jack 
Reeve,  said  I  to  James,  playfully.  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it 
IS,  James ;  the  next  time  I  see  him,  I'll  tell  him  that  I 
beheve  what  he  told  us  about  the  Irish  people  making  soft 

*♦  Pshaw,  Lynn !"  exclaimed  James. 

"Ah,  but  Lynn,  remember  the  story  of  the  Country 

i.!!i  iH?1it-^u®¥''  ^^^*  y^"  ^^«d  to  me  the  other  night," 
stid  httle  Michael.  «  A  country  girl  had  a  basket  of  elcel 
^t  eggs,  and  eggs  are  very  good  eating  you  know. 
Well,  she  warned  to  change  them  for  gay  gowns,  and 

L^PrLf  V/ K™T>\""^  ^  '-^^  a^s^fndsomeas 
flT  ^'^f  ^^""^^  *^®  ®gg«'  »nd  never  got  the  gowns, 

the  money,  or  the  lovtr.  Remember  that,  Lynn."  ^  ' 
What  you  have  said  is  true,  my  father,"  said  I.  «  and 
contentment  has  gone  hand  in  hand  with  the  poverty 
which  has  been  our  lot,  else  had  our  condition  been  miser- 
able indeed.  You  neither  looked  nor  wished  for  any 
thing  better  or  greater,  and  thence  have  been  completely 
happy.     But  my  mmd  is  differently  constituted.    I  must 

reSl  T  r  K  ^^y  '^'""'•""'  °^  ^'^  «f  d'«^<^"tent  and 
hpSf*  I  ^'  ^^^"  "^y  Sood  or  evil  fortune,  as  it  may 
wh?rh  ?f  f^"^/'  *^  f".^"''^  knowledge  and  imbibe  ideas 

unm  me  for  that  in  which  I  now  move.  I  am  chaneed 
much  changed  from  what  I  was."  cnanged, 

JH^'l  ^''^'  indeed,"  said  my  father,  thoughtfully.  «  So 
«Tr.n'  '"^'^''^"L^'  "i""^'  ^  ^''^  ^'  if  somebody  had 
thh\Z'^  ?r  ""a  r  ':J^  ''"'I^''^^  ««"'  «"d  replaced  him 
with  a  being  like  Alfred  or  the  Black  Prince,  whom  vou 
read  about  to  your  brothers.  I  know  not  why  i'Ts,  but 
sometimes,  before  I  think  of  it,  I  raise  my  hand  to  pull  off 
my  hat  to  you,  as  to  one  greatly  above  me."  ^ 

1  feel,  and  have    felt  for   some   time,  that—let  me 
not  pain  you,  my  dear  parents-the  business  I  am  pur 

"Perhaps  you  was,  my  son,"  said  my  father.  "And 
sure  J  am  that  something  has  been,  for  many  montS 
preying  on  your  mind,  and  robbing  it  of  peace  Your 
mother  and  I  have  been  talking  about  it  frequently,  but  i 


If 


HAVERHILL. 


59 


>ld  wretch,  Jack 
tell  you  how  it 
tell  him  that  I 

ople  making  soft 

of  the  Country 
the  other  night," 
basket  of  excel- 
ting  you  know, 
jay  gowns,  and 
s  handsome  aa 
r  got  the  gowns, 
,  Lynn." 
;,"  said  I,  "  and 
ith  the  poverty 
tion  been  miser- 
svished  for  any 
3en  completely 
ituted.    I  must 
discontent  and 
tune,  as  it  may 
d  imbibe  ideas 
tation,  at  least 
[  am  changed, 

?htfully.  « So 
somebody  had 
replaced  him 
ce,  whom  you 
t  why  it  is,  but 
land  to  pull  off 

that — let  me 
ess  I  am  pur- 
3rn  for  some- 

ather.  "And 
nany  months, 
peace.  Your 
juently,  but  it 


seems  our  guesses  of  its  cause  were  very  wide  of  the 
truth." 

"His  sleep  has  been  very  much  disturbed  for  some 
time,"  said  John.  "  No  later  than  last  night  he  called  upon 
the  "boarders  to  follow  him,'  cried  out,  'Rule  Britannia,* 
then  said  '  the  enemy  are  every  where  flying,  the  field  is 
ours,  boys,  now  who  shall  be  first  in  their  trenches  V  and 
acted  many  other  mad  pranks." 

«  He  has  not  laughed  for  months,"  said  Jenny ;  "  and  he 
never  goes  to  a  frolic  now  any  more  than  Parson  Hatch, 
or  Deacon  Phipps." 

"  He  is  greatly  changed,"  said  Michael,  whose  preco- 
cious drollery  nothing  could  restrain.  «  He  is  no  more  my 
bub  than  I  am  he.  He  ate  but  seven  mackerel  all  day 
yesterday — and  a  shark."  . 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Michael,"  said  my  father,  I'm  not  in 
I  the  humour  for  foolery  now.  "  When  is  it  your  pleasure  to 
'  abandon  your  poor  old  father  and  mother,  Lynn?" 

"  Do  not  speak  thus,  my  dear  father,"  said  I,  with  my 
heart  overflowing.  «  But,  rather  tell  me  jf  it  is  your  plei 
i  sure  to  consent  that  I  sliall  go  at  all." 
'  "  It  is  my  pleasure,  sir,  (with  a  strong  emphasis  on  the 
word  « sir— It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  used  it),  it  is 
my  pleasure,  sir,  that  you  take  that  course  which,  I  don't 
doubt,  you  have  long  since  determined  on  followine 
whether  I  will  consent  or  not.  A  wayward  and  disobe- 
dient boy  you— Pshaw,  Lynn,  don't  cry.  Why,  I  thought 
you  was  more  of  a  man  than  to  cry  because  your  churlish 

and  good-for-nothing  old  father" 

"  My  good  and  excellent  father"-- 

" ^gf  ts  a  little  peevish  with  his  ambitious  son. 

And  yet  well  might  "  wound,  and  well  might  the  taunt 
have  been  spared  when  the  language  of  reproof  has  so 
seldom  been  heard  or  deserved  within  these  doors,  and 
least  of  all  by  you.  My  child,  I  beg  your  forgiveness; 
your  poor  old  father  begs  your  forgiveness  for  a  reproach 
that  never  did  son  deserve  less.  Come  here,  and  kiss  mv 
cheek,  Lynn.  Why,  I  asked  but  for  one,  and  you  have 
given  me  a  dozen.  Now  we  are  friends  again,  are  we 
not  f  And  in  the  delirium  of  his  soul-felt  joy  at  our  re- 
conciliation, he  threw  both  his  arms  around  my  neck,  and 


60 


nATERHILL. 


;.(    ,1     t 


>    J 


i] 


D 


pressed  me  to  his  bosom  as  a  mother  presses  her  infant. 
Laugh  not,  my  gay  readers,  at  my  homely  picture  of  the 
outpourings  of  the  heart  in  the  cabin  of  a  poor  fisherman, 
nor  make  sport  of  me  when  I  tell  you  that  we  wept  in 
each  other's  arms  for  seve/al  minutes,  nor  parted  till  my 
mother,  having  done  the  same  thing  herself,  till  she  was 
half  blind,  declared,  as  well  as  her.  sobs  would  permit  her 
that  we  were  two  fools" — 

"  Who  is  the  third,  mother  ?"  demanded  Mike.     • 

"  — And  shouldn't  do  so  any  longer." 

«  When  do  you  wish  to  go,  my  poor  boy  ?"  asked  my 
Ather,  as  soon  as  his  grief  permitted  him  to  speak. 

« It  is  my  wish  to  go  as  soon  as  next  month,  if  you 
please,  sir."  "^ 

"  I  can  but  advise  that  you  should  not  go  at  all,  but  if  you 
will  go,  you  had  better  put  it  off  till  spring.  Winter  is  a 
very  bad  season  for  boys  to  go  to  sea  in." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  go  to  sea,  sir ;  I  prefer  the  army." 

"  The  army  !"  cried  my  mother. 

"  Among  the  terrible  soldiers  !"  said  Jenny. 

"  The  army  !"  ejaculated  James. 

"The  army!"  cried  Indian  Bill,  and  the  exclamation 
went  the  rounds  of  the  family.  Seeing  I  had  touched  a 
new  spnng  of  discontent,  I  said,  hastily,  «  The  sea,  then,  if 
you  prefer  it." 

"And  we  do  prefer  it,"  said  my  father.  «  But,  Lynn, 
perhaps  you  have  not  been  told  how  very  low  seamen'i 
wages  are  at  this  time—they  will  scarcely  keep  you  in 
clothes.  Jack  Reeve  was  saying  that  Captain  Nat  Tis- 
dale  s  boy  Jo.,  a  right  smart  lad,  and  a  man  grown,  got  but 
four  dollars  a  month,  in  the  Nancy  Dawson,  to  St.  Kitts. 
He  shipped  as  an  able  seaman,  and,  and— here  comes 
Limber-tongue  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 

The  person  who  went  by  this  nick-name  was  an  old 
weather-beaten  sailor,  by  the  name  of  Jack  Reeve,  by 
birth  an  Englishman,  but  for  the  last  twenty  years  a  re- 
sident in  our  village.  Jack  was  a  plain,  good-natured 
fellow,  "rough  as  the  element"  upon  which  thirty  years  of 
his  life  had  been  spent,  but  such  a  liar  I  am  sure  never 
lived  before  or  since.  I  should  however  remark,  that  his 
hes  always  regarded,  past  time  s  and  by-gone  scenes,  adven- 


I 


ji 


HAVERHILL. 


61 


tures  in  which  he  had  acted  a  conspicuous  part,  dangers 
he  had  dared,  perils  he  had  escaped.  He  always  "  knew 
ercry  thing  ;"  and  this  expression  he  had  taught  to  half  the 
village.  Say  to  him,  "  Jack,  the  Peggy,  from  Domineek, 
was  in  sight  yesterday."  "I  know  it,"  was  his  reply. 
"  Ah,  but.  Jack,  it  proved,  after  all,  not  to  be  the  Peggy." 
«« I  know  it,"  said  Jack.  "  Did  you  hear  of  the  terrible  ac- 
cident yesterday  ?"  "  To  be  sure  I  did— knew  it  in  five 
minutes  after  it  happened ;  Sam  Briggs  told  me,"  "  Oh, 
Jack,  how  can  that  be,  when  it  was  Sam  Briggs  himself  that 
was  killed  outright."    "  I  know  it,"  was  the  answer. 

Yet  spite  of  the  foible  of  lying — you  could  not  call  it  a 
vice  as  Jack  managed  it — he  was  one  of  the  best  creatures 
living,  and  I  am  sure,  as  far  as  he  was  known,  more  gene- 
rally beloved  than  any  other.  He  seemed  to  live  only  for 
the  purpose  of  doing  good.  His  benevolence  was  per- 
fectly quixotic.  If  he  earned  a  shilling  above  the  sum  ne- 
cessary to  keep  his  "  duds  in  trim,"  and  his  "  locker  stored 
with  bread,  and  biscuit,  and  tobacco,"  and  his  square  bottle 
full  of  Jamaica  rum,  of  which,  however,  he  drank  very 
sparingly — "  seldom,  he  said,  more  than  enough  to  make 
him  drunk,"  he  was  sure  to  devote  ten-pence  of  it  to  sonie 
work  of  charity.  "  Where  are  you  going  to-day.  Jack  V* 
"  To  carry  a  mess  of  fresh  cod  to  poor  sick  Betty  Whim- 
penny."  *'  She's  dead.  Jack ;  died  this  morning  at  three." 
"  I  know  it ;  w  5II,  I'll  take  them  to  old  Ben  Vinson  then ; 
but  I'll  have  to  stay,  and  watch  lest  that  d — d  lazy  baggage, 
his  daughter  Dinah,  gets  them,"  &c.  Such  was  the  being 
to  whom  my  father  had  applied  the  epithet  "Limber- 
tongue,"  and  who  now  entered  to  take  the  field  against 
me. 

"  And  here  comes  Limbertongue,  and  he'll  tell  you  all 
about  it,"  it  may  be  recollected  were  the  concluding  words 
of  my  father's  last  reported  speech. 

"That  I  can,"  said  Jack.  "  Bill  Kyamus,  you  ghost  of  a 
black  bear,  get  off  that  chair,  and  let  an  old  sailor  take  it." 

Bill,  whose  acquaintance  with  the  whites,  and  general 
favour,  had  made  him  rather  impudent ;  and,  besides,  felt 
that  his  having  been  an  inmate  of  the  house  for  ten  years 
gave  him  the  best  claim  to  the  only  unoccupied  chair,  con- 
tinued sitting. 

Vol.  I.— 6 


■  ''i 

n 


[ 


I'll 


ill  t 


iVf 


;(-r 


li-ii 


62 


HAVERHILL. 


nngnjy,    mat  the  bo  s  n  never  speaks  twice." 

Bwainrwr^"°"'"!'^'='*''""''">^  °l<'  house-dog  (Boat. 
S^.  kT  ■•  hearing  his  name  loudly  pronounced  bi  i 
doubtless  without  any  intention  to  give  the  old  tar  the  H. 

and  11  ".r"  ^':^''"^-     TheoccnLneeoiTatg  ■ 
stocking,  and  jewsharps,  but  I  amTertarthey'mat  ht 

SoCtehrp-Ta^r^te^^^^ 
Sic^  "^i:!  tit,k^s%T^i^\^/i%^^^ 

as  talks  of  shakin'  hands  wifh  ofd  Neptin )"      ^'  "  "  ^^ 
LynS!"'    '*"  '"'''  "^  '"''"'^'•>  "«  '«  ""t  Jenny,  it  i, 

JF,t%  ^'°7  "'"  ""5:  V'*"^  ^'«  'oW  to  the  old  sailor  re 
peatedly  interrupted,  however,  by  his  oaths  and  chwac 

"Go  to  sea !  go  to  sea  !  go  to  h—,  will  you  vou  d     A 

re'kf — '-ir  ^""'"  ^--''^^■^"'^"^lli'^t 

S^Ta  T"'^^^  '""^'J^"''  " '"  «*ed  the  roguish  Michael 
who  had  to  answer  for  a  great  many  of  jfck?  £  and 
whose  questions  were  generally  the  whetstone  to  Jack's 

?o»Th''  "■"'.  """r''  "P  h!^-ndatu't  ^7te 
ton,,  when~to  use  hie  own  phrase-he  was  going  to  "c^ 


HAVERHILL. 


63 


■j 


lot  Jenny,  it  ia 


■I 


sail  hard."   "  It  is  no  more  nor  less  than  a  dog's  life.    Why, 
Mike,  when  I  was  with  Joe  Knight  in  the  Foghorse  (Fou- 
gueux),  we  'countered  a  gale  off  Scilly,  which  lifted  the 
nng-bolts  out  of  the  deck  as  though  they  had  been  feathers 
—no  laughing,  youngsters  ;  if  it  isn't  true,  d— n  me  ;  and 
blew  the  crow  from  the  foot  of  the  windlass  against  a  man 
in  the  mizen-topmast  cross-trees  with  such  force,  that  he 
was  knocked  overboard,  and  not  picked  up  till  a  week  after. 
Oh,  it  is  a  villanous  life." 
"  What  became  of  the  crow  V*  asked  Michael. 
"  Fell  perpendicularly  down,  and  broke  the  scull  of  the 
master's  mate,  as  he  was  at  work  at  the  heel  of  the 
bowsprit." 

«  Oh,  bless  me  !  hush,  Jack  !"  said  my  father,  «  fell  per- 
pendicularly from  the  mizen-topmast  cross-trees  to  the  heel 
of  the  bowsprit !    Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  ?" 
"  If  it  is  not  true  may  I  be  —hanged,"  responded  Jack. 
"What  finally  became  of  the  poor  man  in  the  main-top- 
mast cross-trees  ?"  asked  Michael.  . 

"  Caught  a  rope  as  he  fell,  and  was  drawn  m  on  deck  in 
less  than  a  minute." 

«  Why,  just  now  you  said  he  was  not  picked  up  till  a 
week  after,"  said  the  boy. 

"Now,  Mike,  shiver  my  timbers  if  I  untwist  the  yarns 
of  the  story  just  to  lay  them  up  anew  for  your  convenience. 
But  if  you  will  overhaul  the  whole  story,  you'll  find  it  hang 
together  as  well  as  a  sermon." 

«  Come,  come,  Lynn,"  said  my  mother,  who  had  spoken 
but  twice  during  the  foregoing  conversation,  having  been 
busily  employed  in  drying  her  tears ;  "  I'll  make  a  bargain 
with  you.  There  have  been,  as  you  must  have  seen,  a 
great  many  signs  of  a  hard  winter  at  hand.  The  breast 
bones  of  the  fowls  and  ducks  have  been  very  much  cloud- 
ed,* and  owls,  both  white  and  gray,  have  been  about  here 
all  summer— come,  Jack  Reeve  says— didn't  you.  Jack?" 
"  Yes,  I  did,"  said  Jack.  "  But  if  I  know,  mother  Haver- 
hill, what  I  said  then,  put  me  down  in  the  ship's  list  eleven 
below  the  cook's  mate."  .  ^ 

« Come,  Jack  says,  from  a  long  way  beyond  Davis  s 


*  An  American  superstition.     When  the  breast-bone  is  clear,  it  por» 
tends  a  fine  winter  ;  when  otlierwise,  it  means  hard  weather. 


4^-4 


:,ar" 


94 


HAVERHILL. 


'■r 


ocean  without  any  thing  more  said  about  it     In  lUl      • 
ion  of  my  mother,  the  "evil  day  wafput  so  t  or'!'.." 
ther.  was  no  occasion  for  present  gloom"an3  tah  she  1Z 
Z^I^Z  r^'r™'^  merry  upon  tSe  occasion,  and  laigS 

Hufchintl"""'"^'  "^  '"^  --"-f"'  P'  -  ox  %^tJZ 


I 


HAVERHILL. 


eft 


few  other  conveniences,"  said  my  mother.  She  stipulated, 
however,  that  I  should  take  with  me  scrveral  medicinal  herbs 
of  her  recommending — plants  wonderfully  propertied; 
I  this  as  a  preventive  and  that  as  a  cure  ;  this  good  for  coldg 
I  ill  the  morning  and  that  at  night :  this  for  sprains  and  that 
for  bruises ;  one  a  promoter  of  expectoration  to  ease  the 
lungs,  another  eftectual  to  check  a  cough  and  heal  the  sto- 
mach ;  and  a  third  could  do  any  thing  but  change  foul 
weather  into  fair,  or  tell  how  the  wind  would  blow  next 
day.  And  moreover,  that  I  should  be  careful  to  see  that 
the  captain  carried  a  pair  of  tooth-drawers  with  him. 

"  And,  Lynn,"  said  she,  "  you  have  never  yet  worn  night- 
caps, you  must  wear  them  while  you  are  gone.  Jack 
Reeve  said  that  when  he  was  in  Guinea,  which  I  believe  ia 
dose  by  Sant  Lucee — "* 

"  The  lying  dog  !  he  was  iiever  there  in  his  life,"  said 
the  old  skipper,  peevishly. 

My  mother  made  it  a  rule  never  to  hear  a  word  that 
was  said  against  the  veracity  of  her  favourite,  and  went  on. 

— "  Said  that  when  he  was  in  Guinea,  a  crocodile  as 
big  as  his  fist  crept  into  his  ear  as  he  lay  sleeping  in  his 
berth  and  would  have  strangled  him,  but  for  the  coming  up 
of  a  nigger  thunderstorm,  which  is  always  terribly  black, 
he  says,  and  which  frightened  the  awful  beast  so  much 
that  he  tumbled  out  stone  dead,  which  saved  poor  Jack's 
iife."  ^ 

"  To  have  his  neck  stretched  for  lying,"  said  the  captain, 
indignantly.  «  A  crocodile  as  big  as  his  fist  crept  into  his 
ear  T  Weil !  I  always  knowed  Jack's  ears  were  very,  very 
long,  but  never  till  now  that  the  opening  to  them  was  as  big 
as  his  fist.  And  would  have  strangled  him !  I  always 
thought,  indeed  I  did,  that  strangling  was  caused  by  choking, 
and  not  by  stopping  wp  the  ears.  And,  moreover,  I  thought 
that  crocodiles  were  tremtridous  creatures — as  big  as 
large  oxen  and  covered  with  scales — that  is  what  my  Bible 
tells  me,  instead  of  being  the  size  of  large  gnats.  Mother 
Betty,  1  have  heard  Jack  tell  a  thousand  lies, first  and  last, 
but  never  one  to  equal  this," 

"  You  shall  have  nightcaps  to  prevent  the  crocodiles 


*  St.  Lueta  is  •&  pronounced  in  Now-England  by  the  vulgar 

6* 


BAVBRniLL. 


from  creeping  into  your  ears,"  continued  my  mother,  not 
noticing  the  interruption. 

I  promiged  to  wear  nightcaps  if  she  would  provide  them, 
which  cave  her  great  satisfaction,  and  so  ended  thii 
memoraole  night. 


fh 


f'  ( 


!  1^^ 


*. 


CHAPTER  X. 

My  object  then  was  attained,  at  least  prospectively,  but 
nnder  circumstances  which  deprived  it  of  tlie  power  to 
communicate  much  satisfaction,  or  to  calm  the  nassions 
which  tore  my  mind.     My  separation  from  Mary  Danvers 
was  productive  of  the  consequences  which  might  have 
been  expected  to  ensue  from  the  event  acting  upon  one 
ardently  attached,  and,  withal,  of  strong   passions.     We 
had  grown  up  together,  had,  as  it  were,  been  inseparable 
companions  for  more  than  twelve  years.    Among  the  ear- 
liest  of  my  Vecollections  was  that  of  assisting  over  a  stile, 
and  finally  home  (carrying  her  a  part  of  the  distance  in 
my  arms),  a  little  black-eyed  girl  of  three,  who  had  wan- 
dered into  the  fields  without  her  nurse,  had  torn  her  frock, 
and  was  crying  with  cold,  hunger,  and  fear.     This  was  the 
beginnmg  of  an  acquaintance,  the  commencement  of  a 
friendship,  the  foundation  of  a  love,  which  had  never  known 
a  moment's  interruption  till  the  night  of  our  "  final  under- 
standing."    For  the  last  four  years  we  had  been  accustom- 
ed  to  meet  almost  every  day,  and  to  open  our  bosoms  to 
each  other  in  perfect  confidence—to  sit  together;  sing 
— from  one  piece  of  music ;  read  together — from  one 
book ;  and,  together,  to  run  over  the  list  of  anticipated 
pleasures — those  which  were  to  ensue    upon  the    ap- 
pearance of  the  first   daisy,  and  those  which  came  in 
with  the  last  ear  of  the  harvest.   «How  many  golden  visions 
dance  before  our  eyes  in  the  morning  of  life  !     How  de- 
lightful are  its  anticipations,  yet  how  seldom  do  they  prove 
more  than  empty  shadows  ! 
To  be  deprived  all  at  once  of  enjoyments  and  pleasures 


UATIRUILL. 


<nr 


which  had  almost  become  neQeisary  to  our  existence,  from 
being  on  terms  of  the  tonderest  intimacy  to  be  debarred 
in  one  hour  from  meeting  with  or  speaking  to  each  other, 
and  that  when  we  had  just  been  made  aware  of  the 
nature  of  the  feeling  which  mutually  possessed  our  bosoms, 
brought  one  of  us  at  least  to  the  verge  of  despair,  and,  I 
imagine,  did  not  greatly  promote  the  happiness  of  the 
other. 

I  became  still  more  changed — changed  to  myself, 
changed  to  all  around  me,  in  my  habits,  feelings,  and 
actions.  I  had  been,  as  I  have  said,  a  very  wild  and  reck- 
less boy,  full  of  health,  roguery,  and  animal  spirits,  uptil 
the  period  of  my  disgrace  at  school ;  and  though,  from  that 
day  forward,  I  had  so  completely  surrendered  my  hours 
to  my  books  and  studies  that  I  had  small  time  for  society, 
it  was  not  till  after  the  evening  of  my  interview  with 
Mary  that  I  gave  it  up  altogether,  or  refused,  at  times,  to 
mix  in  the  parties  or  frolics  given  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Before  that  time  I  used  to  find  leisure  for  an  occasional 
visit  to  Jack  for  one  of  his  men-of-war  yarns,  as  well  as  to 
Mr.  Jobson's,  to  enjoy  the  sport  of  hearing  him,  in  his 
singularly  quaint  and  eccentric  style,  belabour  the  "par- 
sons," against  whom  he  had  a  very  strong  and  enduring 
antipathy.  Then  I  used,  once  a  fortnight  at  least,  to  go  to 
Dick  Bunker's,  a  half  "  Nantucketer,"  to  hear  his  stories 
of  the  Greenland  whale  fishery,  in  which,  if  you  believed 
him,  he  had  figured  as  harpooner  of  one  of  his  own  island 
ships  to  a  greater  extent  than  the  valiant  Captain  Bobadil 
in  sundry  armies  of  repute.  But  now  I  went  into  no 
society,  and  kept  aloof  from  all  the  diversions  usually  pur- 
sued with  so  much  ardour  by  youth.  Grave  and  sober 
beyond  even  the  requirements  of  the  villag  j  puritans,  there 
were  loud  and  frequent  wishes  expressed  that  "  Lynn 
Haverhill's  present  gloominess  could  be  exchanged  for  his 
old  tricks,"  that  "  he  could  be  coaxed  to  laugh  once  more, 
and  once  more  go  out  ari»)ng  the  young  folks  as  he  used 
to  do."  Then  came  question  on  question  of  "  what  ailed 
me  ?"  and  "  why  was  I  sad  ?"  and  "  why  I  was  changed  ?'* 
and  "  what  pleasure  I  found  in  solitary  walks  by  the  sea- 
shore, and  solitary  strolls  by  moonlight?"  and  surmises 
very  wide  of  the  truth,  and  rumours  of  "  mental  aberra- 


i 


■'•tfiirS'i^c 


as 


HAVERHILL. 


Jpn,  and  Lord  Burleigh  shakes  of  the  head  from  those 
disposed  to  patronise  the  incredible,  with  hints  from  the 
sages  of  the  latter  class  of  some  dark  deed  perpetrated,  no 

M.  P '^  *^']  "^^.^^  ^^  g"^««  ^^^^^-  Surprising  that,  in  a 
New-England  village,  where  curiosity  prevails  in  its 
greatest  possible  degree,  and  where  even  the  Gordian  knot 
would  in  time  have  been  untied,  the  clew  to  the  labyrinths 
found,  the  lost  books  of  the  sibyl  discovered,  the  real 
cause  of  my  anxiety  should  have  remained  hidden. 

Vain  were  all  the  endeavours  of  my  brothers  and  sisters 
to  wean  me  from  melancholy  and  solitude.  I  shunned  my 
boyish  associates;  even  Jack  Reeve^s  merry  and  marvd^ 

Za^r  t^  Tl  ^i,\^--^-^  ^^-than  th^ey  weSTom 
to  have.     Abroad  I  talked  none,  and  at  home  my  words 

7ZJf'  out  lUce  the  charities  of  the  worl J  To  an 
applicant  suspected  of  needing  them.  I  do  not  believe 
that  there  ever  was  a  more  miserable  being  than  I  was. 

IovpH  M  """^n  ^'•^^^"r^d  g"ef  was  my  hopeless  love.  I 
loved  Mary  Danvers  to  distraction.  Young  as  I  was-a 
mere  boy-not  twenty,  she  had  become  identified  with  mv 
very  existence-connected  with  every  hope  of  earthly 
happiness,  present  and  future.     To  live  within  two  shoX 

rih     ^'f^  y"'  *^  H'  '^'^^"'^^  ^^«i"g  h«r,  except  a 
church,  and  from  speaking  to  her  at  allTwhen  my  heart 

roir;^'"^'!!?  ^^'^  long.treasured  tenderness,  and 
homage  demanding  to  be  spread  out  at  her  feet,  was  more 
than  my  pro«d  spirit  could  endure.  Hopeless  did  I  caH 
my  love  ?  Yes  it  was  hopeless  indeed ;  for  could  I  help 
remembering  that  she  was  of  a  proud  aid  wealthy  faS 
I   of  one   miserably  poor  and  ignoble-how  small  J' 

ntZn^'^rl"'^  "^^r"^  ^'''-  She  had,  indeed, 
pledged  her  faith  to  me— the  faith  of  a  girl  of  fifteen  to  a 
boy  of  less  than  twenty,  about  to  be  separated  from  Le' 
leaving  her  exposed  to  all  that  could  seduce  the  affections 

2[fef  andl?  't  ''"'^  ''  VT^  girl-wealth,  Sb„; 
mtes,  and  the  o  her  coveted  distinctions  of  the  world 
Was  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  she  would  withstand 
these  allurements  in  favour  of  the  son  of  SimonHaveS 
the  poor  old  fisherman  of  Washqua  hamlet  1 

\  still  attended  to  my  usual  avocations ;  going,  in  the 
fishing  season,  m  the  b.at  with  my  brothers ;  tt  other 


id  from  those 
lints  from  the 
erpetrated,  no 
ising  that,  in  a 
•evails  in  its 
Gordian  knot 
the  labyrinths 
red,  the  real 
lidden. 

irs  and  sisters 
[  shunned  my 
and  marvel- 
jy  were  wont 
le  my  words 
world  to  an 
not  believe 
han  I  was. 
;less  love.    I 
as  I  was — a 
fied  with  my 
3  of  earthly 
in  two  short 
r,  except  at 
3n  my  heart 
erness,   and 
3t,  was  more 
ss,  did  1  call 
lould  I  help 
dthy  family, 
V  small  iP" 
ad,  indeed,, 
fifteen  to  a 
1  from  her, 
3  affections^ 
1th,  fashion, 
the  world, 
1  withstand 
1  Haverhill^ 

>ing,  i»  the 
;  at  other 


HAVERHILL.  09 

times,  labouring  in  the  fields  tor  my  father's  benefit  for  all 
that  would  employ  me.    But  my  labour  wanted  activity, 
the  laugh,  the  song,  and  the  whistle  of  those  who  go  to 
their  tasks  with  the  lark,  and  carol  not  less  blithely     There 
was  a  thorough  abstraction  of  mind  from  all  I  did     I  waa 
no  more  the  Lynn  Haverhill  who  was  the  best  ploughman, 
fisherman,  reaper,  mower,  any  more  than  I  was  the  boy 
who  could  not  spell  «no*e,  nose  on  your  face."    My  father, 
perceiving  that  I  no  longer  engaged  in  the  customar' 
tasks  with  spirit,  nor  laboured  with  cheerfulness,  spared 
me  the  greater  part  of  them,  seldom  suffering  any  applica- 
Hon  for  that  purpose  to  be  made  to  me ;  and  in  instance! 
where   I   had  made  engagements,  sending  one  of  my 
brothers  to  fulfil  them.     I  felt  pained  by  these  fresh  proofe 
ot  parental  care  and  kmdness,  and  exerted  myself  to  over- 
come or  conceal  my  reluctance  to  engage  in  what  I  con- 
sidered menia    tasks.     The  thought  that  my  exertions 
would  avail  to  lighten  the  labours  and  burdensof  a  beloved 
lamer,  dependent  for  support  upon  manual  labour  and  a 
precarious  pursuit,  overcame  the  pride  which  viewed  them 
as  debasing,  and  the  intermission  in  my  active  duties  by 
field  and  flood  was  of  short  duration.  ^ 

It  was  now  my  greatest  delight,  almost  my  only  plea- 
surab^^  employment,  to  look  at  my  mementos  of  JVfary 
and  the  memonals  of  our  early  love  and  happy  hours.     I 
possessed  a  lock  of  her  hair,  one  of  the  glossy  ringlets 
which  clustered  on  her  lovely  forehead  on  the  day  I  proved 
myself  so  bad  a  speller.    It  was  begged  without  the 
apology  and  bestowed  without  the  blush  which  at  a  later 
ITi^t       ?v  ^'^^«  T"'d  have  doubtless  accompanied 
both  the  petition  and  the  gift.     I  had  the  first  copyslip  she 
ever  gave  me,  learn  to  do  well,  and  the  last,  aucunchemin 
clejkurs  ne  conduit  a  la  gloire.     Several  scraps  of  poetry, 
cutout  or  copied  by  het  from  books  expressly  for  me 
come  drawings  of  flowers,  of  a  "Portuguese  man-of-war." 
ot  the  old  larch,  of  a  daring  boy  snatching  a  pet  lamb  from 
I  a  rabid  dog;  another  rude  sketch  of  a  male  urchin  helping 
fa  ittle  girl  m  trouble  over  a  stile  ;  and  yet  another,  of  a 
f  y  boy  fencing  in  an  ant-hill ;  together  with  that  gallant 
l|Oken  of  knightly  devotion  and  pledge  of  his  constancy 
I  theg-/cw,m  days  of  chivalry;— alas!  for  their  departure  !— 


I 


1}'     j 


^:  }i 


:'" 


#      I 


■iJf<&.- 


70 


HAVERHILL. 


{^i 


/'? 


,  ?    i 


the  gay  decoration  of  his  helmet,  were  also  of  the  number 
of  my  treasured  memoiials.  But  the  gifts  most  esteemed 
were  those  books  in  which  she  had  pencil-marked  her 
favourite  passages,  and  the  papers  of  directions  for  my 
studies,  sent  me  when  she  was  unable  to  come  to  the 
school-house  in  person.  The  black-letter  MSS.  in  the 
British  Museum  are  not  half  so  highly  valued  by  antiqua- 
ries as  those  scrolls  of  my  dear  Mary  were  by  me. 
Indeed,  I  prized  them  so  highly,  and  perused  them  so 
much  and  so  often,  that  in  a  short  time  they  were  rendered 
totally  illegible,  though  that  circumstance  abated  nothing  of 
iheir  value  in  my  eyes.  The  books  were  not  so  frail,  and 
abode  a  never  equalled  scrutiny  with  a  much  better 
grace. 

I  saw  Mary  every  Sunday  at  church,  and  occasionally 
elsewhere,  though  always  in  company,  which  precluded 
the  possibility  of  my  speaking  to  her.  I  could  gather, 
howevei',  from  her  trembling  lip  and  downcast  eye,  her 
extreme  agitation  and  pale  countenance,  that  no  change 
had  taken  place  in  her  feelings.  I  could  often  catch  her 
mild  eye  turned  towards  me,  but  it  was  bashfully  with- 
drawn  the  moment  it  caught  mine,  and  her  cheeks  became 
suffused  with  blushes.  I  had  never  attempted  to  speak  to 
her  since  the  night  we  had  pledged  our  faith  to  each  other ; 
for  I  could  not  press  her  to  a  clandestine  interview,  and  it 
would  be  death  to  our  hopes  to  attempt  to  visit  her  in  her 
father's  house.  It  was  still  a  beloved  occupation  of  my 
leisure  hours,  and  one  that  sometimes  interfered  with  those 
set  apart  to  procure  my  daily  bread,  to  revisit  the  spots 
which  reminded  me  of  former  times,  and  were  associated 
with  her  delightful  image, — the  rustic  bridge  over  which  I 
had  so  often  helped  her, — the  school-house, — the  stile 
where  I  found  the  little  girl  crying, — the  tree  from  which 
I  procured  the  yellow-bird's  nest, — and  the  ant-hill,  con- 
nected with  my  lamentable  yet  fortunate  deficiency  in 
spelling.  And  how  many  times  after  the  night  had  set  in, 
did  I  thread  the  intricate  path  that  led  from  the  fishing 
hamlet  to  the  patrician  residence,  a  distance  of  two  miles ; 
and  how  many  hours  did  I  walk  around  and  past  the 
house,  and  while  watching  the  lights  and  striving  to 
obtain  glimpses  of  the  persons  moving  about  the  splendid 


may,  un( 

" crocod 

or  guilel 

cences  o 

active  li 

tears  im 

betoken 

little  too 

happines 

possessoi 

Once 

to  write 

begging  1 

upon  the 

Jack  Ree 

he  brougi 

I  could  w 

her  pled^ 

stancy  th] 

but  show 

should  for 

but  I  was 

I  could  n( 

fellow  in 


It*  11 


\\r 


HAVERHILL. 


71 


>f  the  number 
lost  esteemed 
1-marked  her 
:tions  for  my 
come  to  the 
MSS.  in  the 
i  by  antiqua- 
were  by  me. 
jsed  them  so 
i^ere  rendered 
ed  nothing  of 
>t  so  frail,  and 
much  better 

I  occasionally 
ich  precluded 
could  gather, 
icast  eye,  her 
at  no  change 
ten  catch  her 
ashfully  with- 
lieeks  became 
id  to  speak  to 
to  each  other ; 
erview,  and  it 
isit  her  in  her 
pation  of  my 
red  with  those 
visit  the  spots 
3re  associated 

over  which  I 
ise, — the  stile 
e  from  which 

ant-hill,  con 
deficiency  in 
yht  had  set  in, 
m  the  fishing 
of  two  miles ; 
and  past  the 
rl  striving  to 
t  the  splendid 


apartments,  how  much  did  I  weary  myself  with  conjectu- 
ring  which  was  her !  And  when  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
see  a  shght  form  hovenng  about  the  windows,  perhaos 
from  a  suspicion,  or  rather  from  a  hope  that  she  was  nSt 
unobserved,  what  a  thrill  of  delight  visited  my  bosom 

^"'^""^"ii^"^''^"  *^^''  ^  ^"^"y'  ««d  are  ashamed  to  be 
seen  sheddmg  them  even  when  they  are  prompted  by  the 
holiest  affections  of  the  heart.     I  have*^  never  thought 
lightly  of  these   "  badges  of  a  woman's  weakness,"  bu 
have  always  looked  upon  them  with  a  deep  reverence, 
and  should,  even  were  they  to  flow  from  the  eyes  of  the 
sternest  warrior  that  ever  buckled  a  sword  upor  Mg  thigh 
It  could  not  abate  my  good  opinion  of  him  a  ic       "Vhev 
may,  undoubtedly,  deceive  :  that  there  are  such  .  inuo   •. 
"crocodile  tears,"  deceitful,_treacherous,-unmeaning,:- 
or  guileful  tears,  who  that,  like  me,  can  recal  the  reminis- 
cences  of  more  than  sixty  years,  thirty  of  them  spent  in 
active  life,  will  be  disposed  to  doubt?     Yet,  generallv 
tears  indicate   a  mild    and    generous    disposition ;    and 
betoken  the  possession  of  much  sensibility-perhaps  a 
little  too  much-of  the  kind  which  adds  to^the  stock  of 
happiness  m  the  world,  though  it  may  diminish  that  of  its 
possessor.  «*«.  "i  us 

Once  I  wrote  her  a  long  letter—it  took  me  three  davs 
to  write  it,-filled  with  protestations  of  love  and  Son 
begging  her  to  answer  that,  and  permit  me  to  write  others 
upon  the  same  condition  of  an  interchange  of  thoughts 
Jack  Reeve,  whom  I  could  trust,  carried  it^  In  due  tfme 
he  brought  me  an  answer,  fond  and  affectionate,  tender  as 
I  could  wish,  and  beautifully  written  and  worded  renewing 

^Lti^^''  rPf ''"?  ^^'  P''^'"^^^^  «f  constancy,  con? 
stancy  through  ife-the  common  refrain  of  a  youni  girl 

K  tT'I'  ^^^'  •  S««^  "^^««"«  ^hy  no  further  letters 
should  for  the  present  pass  between  us!    It  was  very  hard 

ut  I  was  compelled  to  submit.  I  could  not  speak  i  he/ 
I  could  not-^write  to  her,  I  was  not  even  allowed  what  the 
fellow  m  the  play  calls  -x  "good  stare."  I  wodd  have 
given-not  money,  for,  alas!  I  had  none  of  that  lock! 
picking    hinge-oihng,  heart-softening  commodity  •   but  T 

ufi  ^.T -^'"i?"'^  '}'  P^^"?*^  ftfr  amonth  oVcaugh 
half  the  fish  m  the  sea  for  permission  to  sit  beside  herS 


■ii 


i 


I 


I 


7S 


HAVERHILL. 


u 


Si  > 


converse  with  her,  and,  unchecked  and  unimpeded,  to  gaze 
upon  her  for  one  half-hour. 

November  came — to  me  the  most  pleasant  month  of  the 
twelve,  for  then  the  presiding  deity  of  the  winds  has 
ceased  to  equivocate,  has  ceased 


w|  k 


To  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  our  eara 
And  break  it  to  our  hopes. 


M 


!li... 


??■ 


m 


/ 


We  know  that  the  suffocating  heats,  and  the  unwhole- 
some damps,  and  the  fevers  and  agues  have  departed,  and 
that  healthful  winds,  and  clear  cold  moons,  and  twinkling 
stars,  and  bright  parlour  fires,  and  social  parties,  and  apples, 
and  oysters,  and  cider,  and  all  that,  have  come  again.  I 
hardly  know  why  I  insist  on  preferring  November  to  October 
when  the  latter  is  so  exquisitely  fine,  but  I  do.  October 
has,  it  must  be  admitted,  the  more  pleasant  sky,  and  then  it 
is — in  the  country  of  my  birth — the  harvest  month  of  the 
most  valued  grain  which  that  country  boasts,  the  maize— 
the  beautiful  and  blessed  season  when  the  golden  bounties 
of  a  beneficent  God  are  "  gathered  into  the  earners"  of  his 
disobedient  and  thankless  children.  Still  I  Rke  November 
best.  Though  it  is  colder,  its  coldness  does  not  produce 
the  unpleasant  effect  of  a  raw  October  wind,  which  has 
come  to  you  on  the  back  of  a  mid-day  sun  at  85  degrees, 
and  which  promises,  three  hours  hence,  to  return,  to  use  a 
jockey  phrase,  a  "  few  stun  heavier." 

Then,  for  the  pleasures  of  October ;  list  to  the  troop  of 
disorderly  urchins  on  the  alert  for  the  walnut  and  chestnut 
forest,  or  bending  beneath  their  rich  prize,  a  basket  of  half- 
ripe  grapes,  the  while  shouting  most  obstreperously.  See 
the  happy  shooter,  cap  in  hand,  his  dog  at  his  heels,  creep- 
ing upon  the  unsuspecting  wild  duck,  or,  happier  still,  re- 
turning  with  two  or  three  brace,  sometimes  a  dozen,  which 
he  has  "  killed  flying"  (the  great  boast  of  an  American 
duck-shooter),  unutterably  proud  of  the  feat,  and  happier 
'  than  a  courtier  to  whom  majesty  has  nodded.  October 
is,  in  America,  emphatically  the  "  Sportsman's  month/'  and 
hence  its  approach  is  hailed  with  a  lively  joy  by  all  -"vbo 
love  duck-shooting ;  in  other  words,  nin<^  k-  ten  o*  those 
who  dwell  on  the  margin  of  the  Atlantic  ocean.    For 


HAVERUILL. 


73 


ipcded,  to  gaze 

t  month  of  the 
he  winds  has 


the  unwhole- 
departed,  and 
and  twinkling 
es,  and  apples, 
)me  again.  I 
ber  to  October 
do.  October 
ky,  and  then  it 
month  of  the 
i,  the  maize— 
)lden  bounties 
;arners"  of  his 
ike  November 
s  not  produce 
id,  which  hag 
it  85  degrees, 
iturn,  to  use  a 

Lo  the  troop  of 
t  and  chestnut 
jasket  of  half, 
grously.  See 
;  heels,  creep- 
ppier  still,  re- 
L  dozen,  which 

an  American 
,  6hd  happier 
ed.  October 
s  month/'  and 
)y  by  all  ^vbo 
•  ten  o*  those 

ocean.    For 


m 


the  space  of  four  or  five  hundred  leagues  the  coast  is  dotted 
with  small  lakes  or  ponds  of  greater  or  less  extent,  and  these 
in  October,  and  during  the  whole  of  autumn,  till  the  rigours 
of  winter  shut  them  up,  are  the  resorts  of  immense  flocks 
of  wild  fowl.  They  are  pursued  with  a  singleness  of  pur- 
pose, which  leads  to  so  much  poverty  and  wretchedness, 
that  the  best  argument  ever  brought  forward  to  prove  the 
expediency  and  benefit  of  the  English  game-laws,  is  the 
evil  consequences  of  an  unrestrained  exercise,  in  America, 
of  the  liberty  they  abridge  in  England.  Where  game  is 
so  cheap  as  it  is  there,  where  a  pair  of  delicious  wild  ducks 
can  be  had  for  a  couple  of  shillings,  or  a  half-crown,  and 
sometimes  for  a  shilling,  it  can  never  be  attended  with 
profit,  or  be  successfully  followed  as  a  business.  It  is  how- 
ever, an  exceedingly  pleasant  sport ;  and,  there  being  no 
check  upon  it,  multitudes  resort  to  it,  who  are  too  poor  to 
afford  other  pleasures  than  those  of  using  a  mattock 
throughout  the  day,  that  their  children  may  break  bread  at 
night.  I  must  use  the  opportunity  to  repeat  that  thei*e 
cannot  be  a  better  proof  of  the  advantages  attending  mo- 
derate and  judicious  restraints  upon  shooting,  and  the  tak- 
ing of  game,  than  the  evils  which  result  from  the  practice 
in  those  countries  where  no  "  qualification"  is  required, 
but  each  one  shoots  when  and  where  he  likes.  It  sounds 
harsh  to  our  ears  that  a  tenant  in  fee-simple  should  be  de- 
barred shooting  upon  the  grounds  he  has  paid  for: — and  yet, 
do  his  true  interests  sufFe  ?  are  his  essential  liberties  im- 
paired by  a  measure  which  refers  him  for  amusement  to  the 
plough  and  hoe,  instead  of  the  dog  and  gun  ? 

October  is  beautiful  from  other  causes  than  those  I  liavfe 
named.  There  is  a  calmness  and  serenity  in  the  air,  es- 
pecially from  the  commencement  to  the  middle  of  the 
month,  which  forcibly  remind  one  of  the  two  most  beau- 
tiful things  in  nature,  the  matured  and  mellowed  beauty  of 
a  lovely  and  virtuous  wife,  and  the  deathbed  of  a  resigned 
Christian.  There  is  an  invigorating  and  gladdening  spirit,  *'  a 
gentle  and  soothing  Ariel"  abroad  at  that  time,  which  sheds 
a  delicious  balm  over  the  feelings,  making  us  happy  and 
pleased  with  ourselv(  5  and  the  world,  we  know  not  why 
or  wherefore.  The  fall  of  the  leaf,  go  like  the  departure 
of  man  to  ihe  dust,  it  is  true,  induces  pensive  thoughts 

Vol.  I. — 7 


I  ' 


I.  ,t 


■  ti' 


"\ 


i  Vi'J 


:WoJt.:!f:, 


74 


HAVERHILL. 


'# 


'  in  him  disposed  to  be  contemplative  ;  but  the  general 
effect  of  the  air  in  this  month  is  to  renovate  health  and  to 
create  contentment,inward  peace  of  mind,  and  an  increased 
flow  of  spirits. 

I  cannot  exactly  tell  why  I  prefer  November,  but  I  do. 
Perhaps  my  preference  for  this  more  bleak  and  churlish 
month  arises  from  my  taste  for  domestic  pleasures,  my  sin- 
gular— my  unaccountable  predilection  for  the  species  of 
happiness,  which  I  call  "  fireside  happiness."    Mine  is  not 
the  "  so  domestic"  faculty  of  yawning  away  three  hours  at 
home, which  mothers  ascribe  to  their  daughterswhen  setting 
out  their  "  good  points"  to  a  bachelor  of  expectations,  but 
an  innate,  born-wit h-me  disposition  to  be  happier  at  home 
than  elsewhere.     Nor  is  it  the  pleasure  of  sitting  still  and 
lying  still,  though  neither  of  these  modes  of  existence  de. 
serves  the  many  hard  things  which  have  been  said  of  it.    I 
don't  know  exactly  why  it  is,  but  so  it  is.    Joy  is  certainly 
fostered  and  promoted  by  cold  weather  and  a  brisk  fire. 
Build  up  a  good  fire,  I  care  not  much  whether  it  be  of  coal 
or  wood,  I  prefer  the  former,  and  assemble  some  six  or 
eight  pleasant  and  well-educated  persons  of  both  sexes 
around  it,  rather  more  females  than  males,  say  about  five  to 
three,  close  the  shutters,  light  candles,  and  sit  down  to  lively 
and  sprightly  conversation,  or  to  music,  with  a  rubber  of 
whist  to  end  the  evening,  and  I  am  furnished  with  the  ma- 
terial of  happiness.     You  may  have  these  things  in  Octo- 
ber, but  not  so  pleasantly,  nor  can  you  unite  them  so  well 
in  December.   When  we  add,  howel^er,  to  the  enjoyments 
common  to  either  month,  the  health  that  is  generally  its 
perquisite,  and  the  boon  of  a  contented  and  thankful 
heart,  we  shall  find  ourselves,  as  far  as  our  natures  will 
permit,  furnished  with  every  thing  necessary  to  our  hap- 
piness. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  say  a  few  words  of  the  amuse- 
ments and  diversions  of  the  people  of  New-England,  at 
this  season  of  the  year — a  picture  of  national  manners,  and 
such  this  assumes  to  be,  would  be  incomplete  without  such 
a  sketch. 

When  the  labours  of  the  New-England  agriculturist  arc 
terminated  for  the  year  by  the  housing  of  his  crops,  he 
has  notiiing  more  to  do  but  get  in  his  stock  of  winter  fuel. 


IIAVERHILrM 


1^ 


He  is  not,  as  in  England,  Belgium,  and  some  other  places, 
a  being  who  labours  unceasingly,  busy  as  a  moth  from  day- 
light to  twilight ;  he  has  or  makes  more  intervals  of  rest 
than  are  profitable  or  becoming.  It  is  true  his  climate, 
which  is  dry,  with  long  winters,  forbids,  were  he  ever  so 
industrious,  his  giving  to  his  fields  the  beautiful  carpet  of 
green  which  belongs  to  England,  Ireland,  and  parts  of  Bel- 
gium ;  but  the  warm  sun,  of  which  he  gets  a  larger  quan- 
tity and  in  greater  perfection,  would,  were  he  equally  in- 
dustrious, patient,  and  attentive,  aflford  him  a  greater  return 
of  crops  of  the  grains  which  depend  more  on  heat  than 
moisture,  than  can  be  procured  from  the  earth  in  any  Eu- 
ropean country.  But  he  will  not  labour ;  wonder  not  then 
tiiat  his  fields  soon  become  impoverished,  his  herds  leaq, 
and  his  crops  scanty. 


i  'f 


■% 


CHAPTER  XI. 

I  HAVE  mentioned  duck-shooting  as  a  favourite  sport  of 
the  New-England  people ;  nearly  allied  to  it  is  the  charac- 
teristic "  shooting  match ;"  where  large  numbers  of  keen 
and  practised  sportsmen  assemble — oftentimes  from  the  di:- 
tance  of  ten  or  even  fifteen  miles,  to  contest  the  palm  of 
shooting.  Until  near  mid-winter,  the  object  contended  for 
is  a  fat  turkey  or  goose, — later,  a  half  dollar,  or  its  double, 
is  usually  the  prize.  You  shall  sometimes  see  thirty  or  forty 
young  men  assemble : "  Juckct  and  Sogg,  from  Assawomsit;'* 
"  Doty,  from  Scragg  Neck ;"  "  Phipps,  from  Beaver  Dam," 
&c.  (fee. — the  Russian  Court  Guide  shall  be  nothing  to  it  for 
hard  names.  The  turkeys,  geese,  or  whatever  are  the  ob- 
jects contended  for,  belong  to  him  who  "  makes  the  match." 

Upon  a  perfectly  level  field  is  placed  a  board,  upon 
which  a  figure  resembling,  and  about  the  size  of,  a  turkey 
or  goose,  is  chalked  out,  and  into  some  part  of  this  figure 
the  shooter  must  throw  a  bullet.  This,  it  must  be  remarked, 
is  for  a  "  smooth  bore"  gun  ;  for  a  rifle,  he  will  be  required 
to  hit  the  neck,  or  it  may  be  a  round  O,  about  the  size  of 


ti. 


-  M. 


\fi\ 


78 


HAVERHILL. 


?'''  f 


«l 


a  crown,  in  the  centre  of  the  figure.  The  distance  the 
object  is  placed  from  the  shooter  varies — when  a  rifle  is 
to  be  used,  thirty  rods  is  the  usual  distance ;  when  a  smooth 
bore,  from  sixty  to  eighty  yards.  The  shooter  is  generally 
allowed  to  "  rest  his  piece,"  that  is  to  take  aim  with  the 
muzzle  of  his  gun  resting  upon  another's  shoulder,  or  upon 
a  cross  rail  fixed  up  for  the  purpose.  Each  pays  so  much 
for  permission  to  shoot  once. 

When  the  report  takes  place,  the  noise  and  hubbub 
which  ensue  baflfle  description —it  is  confusion  worse  con- 
founded. Great  numbers  of  boys  are  always  in  attend- 
ance  ;  and,  besides,  ragamuflins  and  blackguards  congre. 
gate  there  as  surely  as  Shylock's  merchants  did  on  the 
Rialto.  If  the  shooter  has  deposited  his  bullet  within  the 
ring,  or  ideal  object,  he  takes  his  choice  of  the  turkeys,  or 
geese,  or  whatever  else  he  has  been  contending  for. 
Another  "  pays  his  shot"  and  succeeds — to  lose,  or  to  win 
and  wear  his  prize,  like  his  predecessor ;  and  so  on  till  the 
whole  are  disposed  of,  or  the  insufficiency  of  the  company 
to  "  kill"  them  is  proved.  In  the  mean  time,  "  whistles 
having  been  pretty  well  wet,"  (an  American  phrase  for 
drinking,)  "  lots  of  fun"  abound  ;  wrestling  matches  take 
place ;  and  sometimes  a  milling  match  or  two  is  got  up 
from  the  remains  of  an  old  and  unadjusted  quarrel.  These 
sports  are  by  no  means  honourable  to  the  character  of 
New- England,  and  were  always  lamented  by  the  wise  and 
prudent,  whose  influence  was,  however,  not  great  enough 
to  effect  their  suppression. 

Another  amusement  of  the  lower  classes  is  found  in 
what  are  called  "  huskings."  The  occasion  is  this.  When 
the  maize,  or  Indian  corn,  becomes  ripe  and  fit  to  be  gath- 
ered,  notice  is  given  that  "  on  such  or  such  a  night,  Mr. 
Johnson  or  Mr.  Smith  will  have  a  husking."  Mr.  J.  or 
Mr.  S.  go  to  work,  and  gather  in  their  corn,  which  is  de- 
posited,  on  a  clean  piece  of  sward,  unhusked,/.  e.  unstripped 
of  its  leaves,  in  rows  of  greater  or  less  length,  nicely 
rowed  up.  Upon  the  stated  night,  at  about  seven  or  eight 
o'clock,  crowds  of  young  men  and  boys  begin  to  assemble 
from  far  and  near,  coming  sometimes  fifteen  miles  to  take 
part  in  the  frolic.  They  labour  in  stripping  the  husks  from 
the  ears  of  corn  till  the  whole  is  finished,  which  may  be 


interspe 
every  tli 
pets,  bli 
by  a  list 
poor  ne| 
played  i 
have  I  S( 
from  so 
impossit 
son,  or  I 
I  can  all 
that  I  h( 
white  ol 
"  Fire  hi 
outcries, 
hit  de  ni 
&c.  &c. 
fore  the 
feast  no 
eat  so  m 
fusion  u] 
gave  hin 
to  excel 
home  th 
Wher 
feasting, 
compan; 
mission 
of  the  n 
them,  so 
the  sexi 
which  ui 
mention) 
or  who 
to  claim 


HAVERniLIi. 


77 


distance  the 
A'hen  a  rifle  is 
vhen  a  smooth 
Br  is  generally 
aim  with  the 
iilder,  or  upon 
pays  so  much 

and  hubbub 
)n  worse  con- 
ays  in  attend- 
lards  congre. 
s  did  on  the 
let  within  the 
le  turkeys,  or 
[itending  for. 
ose,  or  to  win 
[  so  on  till  the 
the  company 
ne,  "whistles 
n  phrase  for 
matches  take 
wo  is  got  up 
arrel.    These 

character  of 
the  wise  and 
great  enough 

is  found  in 
;  this.  When 
fit  to  be  gath- 
a  night,  Mr. 
"  Mr.  J.  or 
which  is  de- 
e.  unstripped 
ingth,  nicely 
even  or  eight 
I  to  assemble 
miles  to  take 
e  busks  from 
hich  may  be 


eleven  or  twelve  o'clock  at  night.  As  the  labour  is  not  of 
a  nature  to  compel  them  to  be  silent,  and  as  rum  is  circu- 
lated profusely,  you  may  be  lure  that  a  noisier  crowd  is 
seldom  seen  out  of  the  halls  of  Momus.  Songs,  generally 
profane  and  indelicate,  shouts,  Indian  war-whoops,  sounds 
in  imitation  of  the  barking  of  dogs,  and  crowing  of  cocks, 
interspersed  with  the  rough  "  yo-heave-ho's"  of  the  sea— 
every  thing  that  can  make  discord,  except  "  drums,  trum- 
pets, blunderbusses,  guns,  and  thunder," — is  to  be  heard 
by  a  listener  upon  one  of  those  occasions.  If  there  is  a 
poor  negro  present,  he  is  sure  to  have  the  "  devil-and-all 
played  upon  his  black  carcass."  Poor  old  Cesar !  How 
have  I  seen  thee  pelted  with  "  rotten  ears,"  which  came 
from  so  many  diflerent  places  at  once  that  it  was  uUerly 
impossible  to  charge  the  offence  upon  any  particular  per- 
son, or  to  say,  as  Nathan  said  to  David,  "  thou  art  the  man." 
I  can  almost  fancy,  now,  when  forty  years  have  passed, 
that  I  hear  the  sounds,  "  Now  for  the  nigger !"  "  Hit  the 
white  of  his  eye.  Bill !"  "  Aim  for  his  teeth,  John  Grey  !" 
"  Fire  high.  Bluster  !"  and  the  poor  creature's  complaining 
outcries,  "  Dere  !  side  a  head,  massa  Lynn  !"  "  Oh,  dear, 
hit  de  nigger  on  he's  tummuck  !"  *'  B'lieve  dey  killa  me  I" 
&;c.  &c.  But  Cesar  was  always  paid,  and  overpaid,  be- 
fore the  company  separated.  He  was  feasted  till  he  could 
feast  no  longer;  his  own  language  was,  "  Swear  I  nebber 
eat  so  much  afore."  Money,  too,  was  showered  in  pro- 
fusion upon  him  ;  every  one  who  fancied  he  had  hit  iiim 
gave  him  a  penny  ;  and,  as  all  were  anxious  to  bethought 
to  excel  in  this  kind  of  shuttlecock,  Cesar  usually  went 
home  the  largest  proprietor  of  copper  in  the  parish. 

When  the  corn  was  all  husked,  dancing,  drinking,  and 
feasting,  the  bait  which  had  been  held  out  to  collect  the 
company  together,  began,  and  continued  without  inter- 
mission till  daylight.  I  should  have  mentioned,  that  many 
of  the  rustic  beaux  brought  their  girls  upon  pilions  behind 
them,  so  that  there  was  the  admixture  and  proportion  of 
the  sexes  requisite  to  a  well  ordered  dance.  A  custom 
which  usually  created  a  little  commotion,  deserves  to  be 
mentioned.  Whoever,  in  husking  found  ears  of  red  corn, 
or  who  could  get  others  to  give  them  to  him,  was  entitled 
to  claim  from  the  girls  a  kiss  for  each  and  every  one  he 

7* 


■^1 


\  M 


78 


HAVERHILL. 


■r'' 


**; 


hed.  The  penalty  was  always  demanded,  and,  as  the 
ladies  arc  the  last  to  abrogate  good  old  customs,  it  was 
always  paid,  unwilhngly  they  said,  but,  nevertheless,  thev 
paid  It.  The  "  Nabby,  sha'n't  1 !"  and  the  "  No,  1  vow  you 
sha  11 1,  Phil,"  ring  in  my  cars  even  while  1  am  writing 
1  here  was  another  festive  meeting  of  the  youn^r  women 
of  the  lower  class,  which  produced  a  call  upon  the  bache- 
lors,  and  ended  m  a  dance.  This  was  a  ••  quilting  frolic  " 
the  beginning  and  ending  of  which  was  in  this  wise.  Wc 
will  suppose  a  case,  in  which  the  custom  shall  be  exempli, 
hed.  i  rissy  Dexter,  a  very  pretty  village  belle,  very  na- 
turally  wishes  to  be  married,  and  know-ig  that  nothing  is  so 
attractive  to  New-Englund  bachelors  as  the  prospict  of 
ample  protection  from  cold  weather,  she  resolves  that  they 
shall  see  a  specimen  of  her  industry,  and  a  proof  of  her 
preparedness  for  matrimony,  in  the  shape  of  a  quilt  of  as 
many  colours  as  the  garment  in  which  Jacob  arrayed 
Joseph.  She  makes  one,  and  sends  for  all  the  prettiest 
young  girls  of  her  acquaintance  to  come  and  help  her  to 
quiIt  It.  They  come  soon  after  dinner,  and  make  their 
httle  fingers  fly  like  the  pickers  in  a  cotton-machine  until 
It  IS  ftnished.  In  the  mean  time,  the  young  men  of  the 
"  set  have  been  apprized  of  the  intended  frolic,  and  come 
bringing  with  them  a  fiddler  and  abundance  of  cheap 
liquors  and  wmes.  They  see,  they  admire  the  quilt,  and  a 
thousand  rough  jokes,  as  to  who  will  be  the  first  to  sleep  un- 
der it,  pass  and  are  applauded.  Dancing  then  commences 
and  continues  until  half  past  nine  or  ten  o'clock,  when  thev 
separate.  This  practice  is  only  in  use  in  the  country,  and 
among  the  lower  classes. 

But  the  prime  occasion  for  mirth  and  merriment  is  the 
session  of  the  county,  or  court  of  inferior  judicature.  This 
JSu^^T  coynty  was  in  the  months  of  November  and  May. 
The  holding  of  the  courts  of  justice  is  deemed  a  very  im- 
portant  matter  in  America,  and  draws  together  greater 
crowds  than  any  other  cause.  Large  as  the  counties  are, 
sometimes  forty  or  fifty  miles  square,  crowds  from  every 
part  of  It  flock  to  the  place  where  the  court  is  held.  It  is 
not  alone  for  the  transaction  of  the  legal  and  ordinary  pur- 
po8e»of  judicature  that  they  assemble,  it  is  a  kind  of  burse, 
where  bargains  of  various  kinds  ai'e  entered  into,  and  out- 


RAVEKHILIi. 


79 


standing  accounts  of  a  pecuniary  and  not  untVequently  of 
a  personal  nature  are  settled.  Here  old  friendships  are 
renewed,  old  quarrels  amicably  or  scientifically  teriiiinated 
—but  the  purposes  and  achievements  are  i  luraerable  and 
indefinite. 

The  New-England  people  are  not  a  litigious  people,  at 
loast  they  were  not  forty  years  since,  and  seldom  go  to 
law;  probably  quite  as  much  from  a  fear  of  the  expense 
which  attends  it,  as  from  natural  placability  and  disposi- 
tion to  avoid  wrangling  and  contention.     I  must  do  my 
countrymen  the  justice  to  say,  that  there  are  fewer  law- 
suits going  on  in  their  civil  courts,  and  fewer  returns  of  "«» 
true  bill"  to  indictments  in  those  of  criminal  jurisdiction, 
than  in  any  country  I  am  acquainted  with.     Not  but  that 
occasionally  there  is  an  action  for  assault  and  battery,  or 
lor  a  trespass  of  cattle  upon  insufficient  enclosures.    Mur- 
ders may  not  happen  once  in  twenty  years  ;  highway  rob- 
beries never ;  and  theft  is  so  unfrequent,  that  you  will 
scarce  hear  of  a  docket  that  supplies  a  couple  of  cases  in 
half  a  dozen  years — at  least,  such  was  the  state  of  the 
country  forty  years  ago.     What  it  is  now  I  cannot  say, 
not  having  been  in  that  part  of  the  country  since  1784. 
Upon  the   whole,  the  docket   is  usually  so  lean,  that 
were  there  a  law  made  to  send  the  lawyers  out  of  the 
country,  it  could,  I  am  convinced,  be  cleared  in  a  day,  as 
well  as  the  three  usually  devoted  to  a  term. 

"Court-time"  is  a  holyday  in  New-England  and  is 
always  honoured  with  a  very  full  attendance  of  its  lieges. 
It  is  spent  by  those  who  are  not  actually  engaged  in  court, 
in  the  employments  before  enumerated,  or  in  wrestling, 
horse-racing,  and  the  usual  extravagances  of  men  who 
meet  for  no  other  purpose  but  fun  and  merriment.  Usu- 
ally more  criminal  offences  are  enacted  during  term-time 
than  in  the  three  months  preceding  it,  that  is,  the  court 
makes  more  mischief  than  it  mends ;  I  believe,  a  not  un- 
usual circumstance. 

In  the  November  term  of  the  year  1758,  several  cases 
came  on  for  trial  which  excited  a  more  than  common 
dei^ree  of  curiosity,  and  attracted  larger  crowds  than  usual, 
— Tt  was  upon  the  whole  a  "  Black  Monday"  term.  The 
calendar  was  reckoned  a  very  interesting  one.    One  case 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


%f4 


1.0 


I.I 


^^  m 
£  ^  Ilia 


1.8 


1-25      1.4   1 1.6 

■» 6" 

► 

'VQ 


.^' 


'^' 


<* 


'^ 


>7 


^4 


/^, 


7 


Photographic 
Sciences 
orporation 


C 


S: 


^ 


■s^ 


iV 


^s 


^9) 


.V 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREE" 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  872-4503 


m 


6^ 


iV 


iff 


80 


HA.VBRHILI. 


IV^ 


which  attracted  considerable  attention,  and  created  a  deal 
of  talk  was  this  :-^  sailor,  by  name  Jack  Saunders,-! 
like  to  be  particular,  the  doing  so  stamps  an  air  of  credi- 
bility upon  your  narrative,  for  it  passes  the  capability  of 
human  impudence  to  invent  such  a  thing  as  a  name  -—Jack 
hired  a  horse  to  go  from  our  village  to  Pinfold',  across 
Wapping's  Creek.     Saunders  had  been  drinking  a  little 
too  much;  and,  while  crossing  the  creek,  which  bad  been 
swollen  by  recent  rams,  the  horse,  which  was  a  very 
restive  one,  threw  him,  and  he  was  drowned.     The  horse 
was  arrested,  and  tried  for  murder,  but  was  acquitted,  from 
want  of  testimony  that  he  did  the  act  from  malice  pr™ 
pense!    It  was  mamtained,--out  of  doors,  howeverLl 
never  heard  what  the  judge's  opinion  was,  that  an  indict- 
ment  coud  have  been  sustained.     It  was  pretended  by 
some,  that  the  whole  proceeding  was  a  piece  of  wagfrerv 
on  the  part  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  bar  to  exposf  the 
ignorance  of  jurors,  and  their  incompetency  to  the  duty  of 
Siting  m  judgment  on  the  lives  and  property  of  their 
fellow-creatures.*  f    i-     j  ^i   men 

But  the  case  which  excited  most  interest,  in  my  mind 
was  that  of  Indian  Bill  and  his  mother.  Thei?o^nce 
was  the  supposed  abstraction  of  ^  quantity  of  corn  from 
the  house  of  a  farmer  m  the  parish.  Bill,  who  was  two 
years  older  than  myself,  had  been  brought  up  in  ourW 
^1  the  age  of  fourteen,  and  his  mother  had  resided  ?or  as 
many  years  as  I  could  remember,  in  a  small  wigwam,  or 

tl  'Xh'y  '^^f  ^T  ""y  ^^'^^''''  Many  were  the 
hours  I  had  devoted  when  a  boy,  even  when  1  had  grown 
to  be  a  very  big  boy,  to  the  tales  of  diablerie  related  by 
the  mother  and  to  the  strange  imaginations  and  wayward 
^nces  of  the  son.  Two  more  singular  beings  never  W 
Sf.  T  T^"^""-'  ^"^  originality  of  thei?  ideas  would 
have  made  them  interesting,  even  to  a  philosopherXw 

Sn.'^^fK  w.  ^  ^y  ^""°'^^'"g  '»  the  wonderful  ^d 
feeling  withal  the  warmest  friendship  for  them 

These  individuals  belonged  to  the  rsmnant  of  a  tribe 


HAVERHILL. 


81 


who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood.  They  occupied,  as  I 
have  said,  a  corner  of  my  father's  field ;  and  here  they 
usually  cultivated  a  small  patch  of  corn,  of  the  species 
which  bears  their  name.  Cultivated,  did  I  say  ?  Yes ; 
they  cultivated  the  large  and  healthy  plants  with  the  most 
assiduous  care  ;  to  use  their  own  phrase,  they  "  nursed  up 
the  warriors  ;"  but  when  a  plant  was  small  and  sickly,  they 
left  it  to  perish  !  This  improvidence  was  natural  to  the 
race,  and  extended  to  whatever  was  intrusted  to  their  care. 

They  had  lived  just  long  enough  among  white  people  to 
become  imbued  with  many  of  their  notions,  and  to  incor- 
porate whatever  seemed  traditional  and  supposititious  in 
the  Christian  faith,  with  their  own  wild  and  singular 
opinions  and  practices.  Thus  they  believed  that  there 
were  two  mighty  spiritual  intelligences,  a  good  and  an  evil, 
opposite  in  nature,  and  each  sovereign  and  supreme  in  his 
own  dominion.  They  gave  to  the  good  spirit  the  name  of 
the  «  Great  Man,"  the  other  they  called  the  "  Little  Man." 
The  one  took  the  spirits  of  the  good,  the  other  those  of  the 
bad ;  and,  to  avoid  collision,  neither  interfered  with  the 
concerns  of  the  other.  But  the  tenet  of  the  Christian  faith 
which  most  perplexed  them  was,  that  the  good  spirit  should 
be  all  powerful,  and  capable  of  restraining  the  evil  spirit 
from  afflicting  men,  yet  fail  to  do  so.  "If  the  Great  Man 
is  strongest,"  demanded  the  boy,  "  why  does  he  not  tie  up 
the  Little  Man  ?"  This  question,  with  all  its  simplicity,  in- 
volved the  subject  so  long  and  so  idly  discussed,  "  Why 
God  permits  sin  to  be  in  the  world."  In  this  straight- 
forward simplicity  and  thirst  for  knowledge,  he  put  the 
question  to  the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  who  effectually 
cured  him  of  an  inclination  to  put  any  more  polemical  po- 
sers, by  interpreting  the  theological  difficulty  with  his  whip. 

Their  opinions  and  views  of  a  future  state,  and  place  of 
rest  after  death  were  not  so  interesting  as  those  of  the 
wild  Indian,  for  they  had  mixed  up  their  own  superstitions 
with  the  doctrines  of  their  white  teachers ;  and,  from  the 
two  systems,  compounded  a  "  faith"  which  wanted  the 
purity  of  the  one,  and  the  wild  and  poetical  beauty  of  the 
other.  Nevertheless,  their  belief  was  singular,  and  not 
without  a  touch  of  sublimity. 

They  pretended  to  have  gained  their  knowledge  of  a 


82 


HAVERHILL. 


mn 


i\ 


J. 


future  state  from  the  source  intimated  in  the  following  tale 

or  tradition.     «  There  was  once  upon  a  time,  many  ages 

before,  in  the  tribe  of  which  they  formed  a  part,  two 

valiant  warriors  who  feared  nothing  but  shame.     One  of 

them  loved  and  was  beloved  by  a  beautiful  maiden,  who 

persuaded  her  lover  to  undertake  the  journey  from  a  wish 

to  know  if  the  soul  of  her  deceased  sister  remembered  the 

promise  she  had  made  her,  of  feeding  with  sweet  berries 

and  cherishing  in  her  bosom,  the  soul  of  a  little  bird  which 

they  had  mutually  nursed  and  loved.     The  other  warrior 

had  lost  his  mother,  whom  he  tenderly  loved,  and  he 

wished  to  go  and  see  with  his  own  eyes  if  theyused  her  well 

in  the  'town  of  souls,'  nor  bowed  her  back  to  heavier  bur- 

thens  than  accorded  with  the  faintness  of  advanced  years 

"  They  left  the  village  of  their  people,  and  after  travel-* 

ling  tor  many  moons  in  a  very  crooked  and  difficult  path 

they  came  to  a  sharp  and  rugged  rock  upon  which  the  sky 

was  rolling  to  and  fro  with  a  tremendous  sound,  and  a 

motion  like  that  of  the  ocean  when  tossed  about  by  a 

tempest.     The  winds  were  gambolling  about  the  path,  not 

as  upon  the  earth,  invisible  to  the  eye,  but  with  shapes, 

J'^T.r'!^  u'^'''''^  ^^""^  ^^''y  beautiful,  and  some    more 
frightful  than  ever  entered  into  the  conception  of  a  mortal 
Ihe  stars,  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  were  accus- 
tomed to  see  chained  within  certain  bounds,  were  there 
floating  and  dashing  about  in  the  air  like  a  canoe  on  a 
troubled  sea.     These  were  the  dominions  of  the  evil 
spirit,  who  had  set  traps  and  snares  and  baited  hooks  for 
them,  but  whose  arts  they  were  ultimately  enabled  to 
baffle.     After  travelling  for  some  days  with  much  fatigue 
and  suffering,  now  buffeted  by  the  terrific  forms  of  the 
north  and  east  winds,  and  now  a  little  soothed  and  com- 
torted  by  the  beautiful  shapes  of  the  breezes  of  the  south 
and  west,  they  came  to  the  milky- way,  which  was  the  path 
to  the  country  of  the  good  spirit.     They  found  this  path 
thronged  with  innumerable  hosts  of  spirits  of  all  colours 
and  all  sizes,  all  bound  to  the  "great  home."    After  tra- 
velling m  this  path  for  two  snows  (two  years)  they  came  to 
a  great  town  surrounded  by  a  very  high  wall.     Within 
this  wall,  which  was  of  vast  extent,  enclosing  rivers,  lakes, 
torests,  prairies,  even  oceans,  dwelt  the  souls  of  the  good. 


HAVERHILL. 


83 


I  were  accus- 


They  were  possessed  of  every  thing  which  could  give 
pleasure  to  the  red  man.  There  was  the  river  filled  with 
fish,  the  lake  filled  with  wild  fowls,  and  the  grove  with  birds. 
They  saw  in  the  open  space  a  fangless  panther,  and  heard 
in  the  thicket  the  growl  of  a  fat  bear  that  could  neither 
bite  nor  hug.  The  speed  of  the  deer  was  outstripped  by 
that  of  the  spirit,  and  the  wings  of  the  wild  turkey  and 
the  brent-goose  failed  to  convey  them  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  sprightly  inhabitants  of  the  town  of  souls.  Their 
corn  grew  up  like  trees,  one  of  their  pumpkins  was  ag 
much  as  a  stout  man  could  carry,  and  the  produce  of  their 
« bean-patch*  was  a  thousand  for  one.  Tl  e  sky  was  al- 
ways clear  and  serene,  the  east  wind  was  never  allowed 
to  come  there ;  but  whenever  he  made  his  appearance  was 
driven  thence  immediately,  and  there  was  a  perpetual 
spring,  without  chill  or  frost,  the  year  round." 

Such  was  their  belief  of  a  future  state.  It  will  not  be 
necessary  that  I  should  point  out  what  part  of  the  tradition 
had  been  derived  from  the  white  people,  the  reader  will 
need  no  assistance  to  enable  him  to  see  it. 

Every  thing  with  them  was  a  spirit,  or  had  its  spirit. 
Every  lake,  cataract,  meadow,  hill,  movmtain,  every  tree 
•which  twisted  itself  into  an  unusual  foi  m,  every  vegetable 
production  which  grew  to  an  unusual  size,  or  in  growing 
cast  itself  into  an  unusual  shape,  was  a  spirit  The  winds 
were  spirits,  even  the  jack-o'-lantern  was  a  potent  and  fear- 
ful spirit.  Atmospherical  phenomena  of  every  kind  were 
attributed  to  the  intervention  of  spirits,  every  misfortune 
to  their  agency.  They  deprecated  their  anger,  and  invok- 
ed their  protection  continually,  and  were  happy  or  miser- 
able as  they  believed  those  invisible  beings  friendly  or 
inimical  to  them. 

Infinite  were  the  interviews  which  old  Sarah  had  had 
with  the  souls  of  the  dead  who  had  left  the  happy  abodes 
to  wander  back  to  the  earth,  some  on  errands  so  trivial  and 
meaningless  that  her  hearers  would  sometimes  sigh  to  think 
that  the  poor  creatures  took  such  long  journeys  for  no- 
thing. She  had  seen  my  grandfather  several  times,  nnd 
brought  messages  from  him  to  my  father.  Once  she  had 
seen  her  mother's  spirit  employed  in  knitting  woollen  hose 
for  her  father's.  'This  displeased  her  very  much,  and,  ac- 
cording to  her  own  story,  she  had  sufficient  spunk  to  read 


i 


r' 


84 


HAVERHILTi. 


her  a  severe  lecture  on  the  shame  of  the  thing,  that  she 
who  was  so  abominably  lazy  whilst  she  was  in  this  world 
should  pretend  to  have  acquired  habits  of  industry  in  the 
other.  She  had  seen  the  devil  repeatedly,  and  gave  me 
the  fullest  and  most  accurate  account  of  old  Rawhead  that 
I  have  ever  received.  She  described  hhn  as  a  very  tall 
and  exceedingly  gaunt  old  gentleman,  wearing  his  own 
hair,  parted  on  the  forehead,  and  stroked  down  on  each 
side  of  his  head,  a  scarlet  cloak,  white  cocked  hat,  topped 
boots,  and  corduroy  breeches.  This  to  my  boyish  fancy 
seemed  much  more  reasonable  than  the  asbestos  garments 
given  him  by  the  parson.  His  complexion  was  very  cada- 
verous, she  said,  his  teeth  rotten,  and  his  eyes  green  as 
grass.  She  described  him  with  such  exceeding  accuracy 
that  I  never  thereafter,  for  more  than  six  years,  passed  the 
"  little  gate  in  the  hollow  on  the  road  to  Benjamin's"  by 
daylight  without  a  shudder,  and  never  at  all  by  night. 

Once  she  had  been  visited  by  an  *•  angel,"  who  was  sent 
down  to  inquire  in  what  season  of  the  year  the  herrings 
first  made  their  appearance  at  Taunton,  and  how  many 
persons  there  were  at  Nantucket  of  the  name  of  Coffin, 
and  whether  a  certain  Dr.  Bradford  was  bookish  and 
knowing.  According  to  her  own  story  she  was  very  re- 
pulsive to  this  gentleman, — the  angel, — deeming  that  he 
ought  to  have  known  all  these  things  without  troubling  her 
about  them. 

The  evidence  produced  against  the  prisoners  was  such 
as  to  satisfy  every  person  in  court  that  they  had  actually 
committed  the  theft  of  which  they  were  accused,  and  they 
were  accordingly  found  guilty  by  the  jury,  and  sentenced 
by  the  court  to  be  publicly  flogged,  and  afterward  to  be 
imprisoned  a  month.  Some  circumstance,  I  forget  what 
it  was,  occurred  to  delay  the  execution  of  the  sentence  to 
the  next  day.  That  night  the  prison  was  forcibly  entered, 
and  they  were  set  at  liberty.  The  perpetrators  of  the  out- 
rage were  not  known  till  some  years  afterward,  when  the 
criminals,  who  were  no  other  than  myself  and  my  brother 
James,  confessed  the  wrong.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that 
I  had  screened  those  po3r  outcasts  from  humanity  from 
punishment.  The  recollecti(  n  of  the  times  I  had  inter- 
posed to  shield  them  from  sufliering  has  not  been  among 
the  unpleasant  ones,  I  assure  the  reader. 


\-} 


BATBRHILL. 


61 


CHAPTER  XII. 


In  the  month  of  December  there  was  a  marriage  in  our 
family,  the  incidents  and  sub-incidents  of  which  ser/ed  to 
enliven  a  few  of  our  moments,  and  to  chase  av/ay  a  little 
of  the  melancholy  which  had  stolen  upon  me,  and  the  gloom 
which  grew  deeper  on  the  brows  of  my  parents,  and  broth- 
ers, and  sisters,  as  the  hour  of  parting  approached.  Should 
there  be  among  my  readers  any  one  upon  whom  "weariness 
of  life"  hath  fastened,  who  would  go  a  mile  in  a  stormy  day 
to  behold  an  incident  which  should  awaken  a  mirthful  feel* 
ing,  or  dispel  a  mournful  recollection,  such  will  thank  me  for 
the  picture  I  am  about  to  give  of  a  New-England  courtship 
and  wedding  in  the  year  1758.  There  is,  or  i  ather  was, 
for  the  American  youth  court  and  marry  at  the  present  day 
with  as  little  ceremony  as  if  they  were  born  Frenchmen, 
and  the  "  ask-my-mamma"  hangs  upon  the  lips  of  the 
maidens  much  as  the  sword  hung  from  the  ceiling  of  Dio- 
n}  '''US,  and  may  be  shaken  from  them  as  easily  as  an  apple 
that  has  hung  upon  the  bough  till  winter ;  I  say  there  was 
much  that  was  patriarchal  and  primitive  in  the  manner  of 
wooing  and  wedding  formerly  in  use  in  New-England.  It 
was  in  the  conduct  of  their  love  affairs  that  their  ultra-deli-  * 
cacy  and  puritanical  notions  were  most  fully  displayed, 
most  warmly  defended,  and  longest  preserved.  It  is  not  for 
us  wlio  live  in  these  days  of  "  bold  suit  and  service,"  when, 
to  be  a  thriving  wooer,  one  must  adopt  any  rather  than 
the  "  Fabian  policy,"  and  never  be  Slender  when  he  has 
the  nerve  to  be  Archer ;  to  hear  without  a  smile  of  the  re- 
spectful distance  preserved  by  tiie  rsuitors  of  that  day  with 
their  mistresses — their  half-averted  glances,  the  withholding 
of  even  a  love-whisper,  or  gentle  pressure  of  the  hand,  till 
papas  and  mammas,  and  uncles  and  aunts,  and  brothers 
and  sisters  had  duly  approved.  How  different  is  it  at  this 
day !  When  I  gave  away  my  Patty,  it  required  the  ut- 
most length  of  visage  I  could  command  for  the  occasion  to 
keep  my  gentleman  from  laughing  in  my  face  while  he 

Vol.  I.— 8 


1    'V  >  KHl 


is/' 


''"fWmSOBsBx^" 


86 


HAVERniLL. 


i';i      ,( "  !' 


talked  of  his  anticipated  hap-^!ness.  Ilnppiness  forsooth' 
Had  any  one,  upon  such  an  occasion,  fifty  years  before 
dared  to  talk  to  a  father  of  happiness,  lie  would  liave  been 
considered  a  Hbertine— a  good-for-nothing  fellow,  whose 
morals  were  none  of  the  best,  and  who  iiad  better  be  sent 
about  his  business  at  once. 

Yet  do  we  not  find  ourselves  asking  whether  there  w^, 
not  more  conjugal  affection  and  fidelity  in  those  days  than 
there  is  now — whether  divorces  and  crim.  cons,  were  not 
fewer,  and  separations  a  mensa*  if  not  a  /Aoro,*  of  far  less 
frequent  occurrence?     If  there  was  less  heard  in  those 
meek  and  "  soul-subdued  times"  of  the  «  moon-light  walk" 
the  "stolen  kiss,"  the  "stammered  confession,"  and  the  blush, 
mg  answer,"  with  the  consequent  train  of  privileges  and 
compliances,  evil,  blameless,  or  neutral,  may  not  the  author-  ] 
ized  and  legalized  tenderness  have  been  deeper  and  more 
enduring,  the  post-nuptial  kiss  more  fervent  and  pure  ?    j 
know  not,  but  I  exert  the  common  privilege  of  my  country, 
men,  and  guess.     It  has  been  said  that  love  begins  with  the 
first  sigh  and  ends  with  the  first  permitted  kiss.     I  do  not  go 
quite  so  fur  as  this  cold  maxim  in  my  code  of  laws  for  the 
regulation  of  ante-nuptial  behaviour,  but  I  am  a  warm  advo- 
Gate,  upon  principle,  for  a  very  restrained  intercourse  be- 
tween  the  sexes,  unless  sanctioned  by  marriage.     Take  my 
word  for  it,  young  ladies !  the  word  of  an  old  and  observant 
man,  that  it  will  be  all  the  better  for  the  parties  if  there  be 
little  lip-labour  performed,  and  few  "  rings  and  seals"  ex- 
changed  before  that  ceremony  takes  place,  which  removes 
the  interdict  from  indulgence,  and  makes  that  innocent  and 
proper  which  was  not  so  before  its  occurrence. 
,<    The  young  man  who  came  to  woo  my  sister  had  been 
in  business,  in  the  village,  about  two  years.     The  phrase 
"  in  business,"  to  make  it  intelligible  to  European  ears, 
requires  a  brief  commentary,  since  it  describes  a  condition 
of  life,  and  involves  practices  which  are  not  found  on  the 
elder  continent.    I  will  premise  that  an  American  may  be 
defined  loosely  a  "  human  bargaining  being."     To  be  en- 
gaged in  traffic  is  his  glory  and  delight.    And  then  so  sharp 

•  ^  mwiM,"  from  board,"  a  thoro^^^  from  bed."   These  are  law  phrues, 
but  moj;«  ezpre«nv«  and  emphatic  than  the  translation.— -iJrfi/or. 


W 


HHHUi'lV  fll  -' 

ffJi 

I^HHI 

if 

^^^^^^^^k  m^^^^^wr 

i 

nAVERHILL. 


87 


and  keon.    "  It  is  a  truth,"  said  an  olrl  friend  of  mine,  "  that 
I  have  known  a  countryman  bargaining  with  a  spider  to 
Kveave  a  web  for  gnats,  and  pay  him  in  Hies,  stand  an  hour 
disputing  whether  he  should  give  him  three  or  four." 

In  America,  to  be  in  "  business,"  or  to  be  "  set  up  in  bu- 
siness," means  to  be  provided  with  and  to  enter  into  pos- 
session of  a  stock  of  merchandize  foreign  or  the  produce 
and  manufacture  of  the  country,  or  both.     The  display  of 
these  wares  for  sale,  no  matter  how  small  their  quantify 
and  value,  in  a  shop  no  mutter  how  confined,  is  called  a 
"setting  up  in  business,"  and  hi  the  smaller  villages  and 
country  towns,  makes  the  occupier,  in  common  language, 
la  "merchant."     Tiiroughout  America,  with  the  exception 
|of  the  slave-holding  states,  where  rank  and  exclusivencss, 
the  importance  attached  to  being  well-born,  and  the  dis- 
j grace  attached  to  the  following  a  mechariical  or  mercenary 
pursuit,  obtain,  strange  as  it  may  sound,  in  a  still  greater 
degree  than  in  Europe,  the  venders  and  traffickers,  there 
called  "  merchants,"  divide  with  the  legal  profession  the 
honours  and  emoluments  of  office,  and  are  looked  up  to  by 
(the  common  people  as  a  superior  order  of  men.     They 
are  more  frequently  than  any  other  appointed  magistrates, 
!and  elected  members  of  the  state  legislature,  foremen  of 
Ijuries,  managers  at  balls,  chairmen  of  political  meetings, 
l&c.  &c.    And  though  it  seldom  happens  that  there  goes 
as  much  tact  to  the  composition  of  those  small  traders  ns 
[would  serve  to  make  a  decent  M.  P.,  there  have  been  in- 
Istances  of  their  becoming  "  congress-men,"  judges,  even 
lambassadors,  to  say  nothing  of  militia  generals,  who  it  is 
jwell  known  are  principally  manufactured  out  of  traders. 
I  The  influence  they  exercise,  especially  in  the  small  towns 
land  villages,  is  great  and  permanent,  and  their  gains  almost 
I  always  abundant  and  sure. 

The  individual,  of  whom  I  am  about  to  introduce  a 
description,  will  be  a  fair  representative  of  his  class— the 
outline  of  his  habits,  thrift,  and  shop,  will,  in  so  far  as 
enterprize  is  concerned,  be,  with  the  usual  exceptions,  that 
of  the  American  trader,  wherever  found.  It  is  to  be  no- 
ticed, that  there  cannot  be  much  diversity  of  character  in 
fthe  American  mercantile  community,  for  the  greatest  part, 
perhaps  nine  in  ten  of  those  who  are  engaged  in  trade, 


88 


KAVBRHILL. 


come  from  New-England,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the 
remainder  from  the  adjoining  states  of  New- York  and 
New-Jersev. 

The  building  in  which  Timothy  Dexter,  or,  as  he  was  I 
commonly  called,  "  Tim  Bones,"  from  an  incident  to  be 
related  hereafter,  commenced  business,  was  of  the  narrow 
dimensions  of  twenty  by  sixteen  feet,  and  in  height  a 
single  story  of  eight.     The  roof  only  of  the  exterior  was 
shingled,  the  upright  being  only  close-boarded,  with  a 
careful  battening  ojf  the  interstices.     There  were  shelves  | 
around  three  sides  of  the  interior,  above  the  height  of  \ 
beer-barrel,  with  six  inches  to  spare,  and  upon  these  shelves  I 
were  ranged  the  "  great  riches," — my  mother's  word,  ofl 
this  thrifty  and  prudent  .youth.     Pins,  tapes,  bobbins,' 
buttons,  thread,  camlets,  coarse  cloths  of  the  two  kinds] 
of  New-England  domestic  manufacturo,  called  "linsey. 
woolsey"  and  "  bear-skin,"  tea-pots,  spices,  pipes,  tobacco,  I 
were  among  the  valuables  with  which  these  shelves  were 
laden.     Below,  and  resting  upon  the  floor,  stood  a  range 
of  low  casks,  containing  the  melasses,  vinegar,  and  the 
cheap  spirits  demanded  by  the  thirsty  class  of  people  to 
whom  his  dealings  were  chiefly  confined,  and  who  were 
always  satisfied  with  the  liquor  sold  them,  so  that  it  were 
capable,  to  use  their  phrase,  of  "  making  drunk  come." 
A  narrow  shop-board,  or  counter,  of  planed  deal,  upon 
which  stood  divers  water  jugs,  and  the  cups  and  drinking 
cans  which,  in  defiance  of  the  scriptural  command,  he  so 
often  held  to  his  neighbour's  mouth,  ran  the  whole  length  of  j 
the  building.     The  interior,  totally  destitute  of  plastering, 
was  still  further  ornamented  with  nails,  spikes,  hooks,  and  I 
wooden  pins,  driven  into  the  posts  and  beams,  to  serve  as 
props  for  rusty  fowling-pieces,  coils  of  rope,  fish-lines,  and 
the  other  etceteras  of  an  American  trader  purveying  for 
the   lower  orders,  if  that  expression  can  be  used  of  a 
country  where  all  are  equal,  at  least  in  theory.     A  few 
three-legged  settles,  or  stools,  and  a  bench  fifteen  feet  in 
length,  were  the  accommodations  provided  for  those  who 
chose  to  drink  their  dram  within  doors,  or  to  extend  their 
"  lazy  length  in  solemn  show"  for  other  purposes.     Having 
given  a  sketch  of  the  "  place  of  business"  of  my  future 
brother-in-law,  my  next  attempt  will  be  to  say  something 


HAVBRniLL. 


69 


of  its  proprietor.  In  giving  the  early  history  of  Timothy 
Doxier,  I  shall  describe  nine  in  ten  of  the  lesser  shop- 
keepers in  America. 

He  too  was  a  friendless  boy,  and  made  his  way  to  tho 
liigli  dignity  of  a  shopkeeper  solely  l)y  prudence,  economy, 
and  dexterity  in  traffic;,  aided  perhaps  a  little  by  cunning 
and  overreaching.      Born  of  parents  the  lowest  of  tho 
low,  vulgar,  ignorant,  and  depraved,  he  had,  at  a  very  early 
age,  shaken  off  the  clogs  imposed   by  his  parentage  an  J 
poverty,  and  stood  forth  conspicuous  for  a  talent  which 
bade  fair  to  give  him  riches.     In  the  language  of  the 
country,  he  was  known  to  be  a  "  right  smart  lad,"  "  a  keen 
chap,"  "  a  raal  shaver,"  all  expressions  declaring  the  popular 
opinion  of  his  thrift  and  sagacity.     His  commercial  career 
may  be  dated   from   his  ninth   birth-day.     The   nature, 
quantity,  and  value  of  the  transaction  which  developed  his 
trading  tact  is  characteristic,  and  deserves  to  be  recorded. 
His  first    speculation   was   in    bones  ; — beef-bones ;   the 
quantity,  half  a  Winchester  bushel.     A  year  before  this 
memorable  era  in  the  fortunes  of  Mr.  Dexter,  a  button- 
mould  maker,  travelling  through  the  village  in  quest  of  the 
raw  material  of  his  trade,  employed  the  boy  Timothy  to 
collect  it,  promising  to  give  him  half-acrown  per  Win- 
chester bushel  for  all  he  should  collect.     The  boy  instantly 
set  about  the   task,  and  unweariedly  employed  himself 
until  he  had,  as  he  supposed,  acquired  the  property  in  half- 
a-crown.     But  he  was  doomed  to  have  his  hopes  pros- 
trated; his  employer  disappeared,  leaving  the  bones  in  the 
hands  of  their  unremunerated  collector.     It  was  not  in  tho 
nature  of  the  prudent  boy  to  throw  aught  away,  and  it 
was  quite  as  foreign  to  it  to  give  any  thing  away  which 
might,  by  any  the  remotest  possibility,  become  valual)lo, 
and  he  deposited  the  bones  in  one  of  the  dark  nooks  of  his 
father's  garret,  where  they  remained  undistur')ed  for  many 
months.     It  so  happened,  in  some  moment  of  boyish  inter- 
course, that  an  act  of  more  than  usual  kindness  in  an  asso- ' 
ciate  melted  his  heart,  and,  to  show  his  sense  of  the  favour, 
he  gave  him  his  bones  I     Repentance,  sincere  and  fervent, 
soon  followed.     The  occurrence  of  which  I  am  about  to 
speak  was  minuted  down  by  him  as  a  warning  against  tha 
iodulgence  of  grateful  feelings  in  after  years,  and  was  thai 

8*  ■ 


m 

■■'iii 


^^■>»—   ^•'•■'**'IWS6>S«S|»#JK»^ 


80 


HAVERHILL. 


(  ; 


cause,  it  was  said,  why  it  was  the  Inst  generous  action  he 
WU8  ever  itnown  to  perform.  The  button-mukcr  returned, 
and  renewed  iiis  oH'or.  His  prodigality,  and  the  loss  }ie  had 
sustained  by  iiis  thoughtle.33  gratitude,  cut  him  to  the  heart. 
After  dehberating  a  few  minutes,  he  went  to  the  doneo 
and  ({emanded  back  the  bones.  They  were  returned,  and 
Tim  liastened  with  them  to  the  button-maker,  and  received 
Iiis  half-crown. 

This  was  the  capital  with  which  my  brother-in-law  com- 
menccd  business,  and  this  was  the  occurrence  which  gave 
him,  in  after-life,  the  nickname  or  epithet  of  "Tim 
Bones."  I  should  mention  that  he  had  another,  "  Sorril," 
given  him  by  the  boys  on  account  of  his  red  hair.  It  was 
that  by  which  he  was  always  known,  until  the  aftair  of  the 
button-maker  occurred.  Indeed,  it  is  to  be  doubted 
whether  he  knew  he  had  any  other,  for  when  he  was  asked 
by  his  catechist  "what  was  his  name,"  he  answered 
"  Sorril,"  and  upon  being  asked  who  gave  it  to  him,  an- 
swered "the  boys  in  the  parish."  At  least,  this  was  the 
story,  though  some  said  it  was  altogether  an  invention  of 
that  mad  creature  Jack  Reeve.  It  served,  however,  to  fix 
the  nickname  upon  him,  and  the  object  of  the  perpetrator 
was  answered. 

He  laid  out  the  two  shillings  and  sixpence  received  for 
bones  in  the  "  tongues  and  sounds"  of  cod-fish,  collected 
here  and  there  fresh,  and,  therefore,  cheap.  These,  when 
cured,  he  "  swapped"  for  a  keg  of  rum,  which,  with  the  aid 
of  a  cool  and  sweet  rivulet  near  at  hand,  he  turned  into 
a  fine  penny.  He  went  on  plodding  and  speculating,  at 
once  the  admiration  and  the  laughingstock  of  the  village  ; 
one  class  of  the  inhabitants,  the  more  aged  and  reflecting, 
calling  him  that  "  smart  lad,  Timothy  Dexter,"  and  extol- 
ling  him  to  the  skies ;  another,  the  young  and  thoughtless, 
ridiculing  him  for  the  qualities  which  procured  him  the  ad- 
mh-ation  of  their  elders,  and  distinguishing  him  by  the  dif- 
ferent nicknames  of  "  Sorril,"  "  Swap,"  and  "  Bones." 

But  Timothy  throve,notwithstanding  the  jibes  and  sneers 
which  were  dealt 'out  by  his  neighbours.  A  second  fortu- 
nate speculation,  quite  as  singular  and  extraordinary  as  tlie 
first,  put  him  in  possession  of  still  larger  means  of  indulging 
bit  darling  passion  for  trafiic 


HAVERniLt.  91 

I  have  mentioned  the  old  tnr  Jack  Reeve,  and  his  pro- 
ponsity  to  fun  and  cxtravoKance.  He  hecame,  wiiile  in- 
(lul;i,niig  It,  the  unconscious  instrument  of  Timotliy's  muliing 
anothijr  fortunate  move  in  the  game  of  hfe,  as  he  was  wont 

to  boast  afterward,  *•  ho  Jielped  poor  Sorril  up  a  d^ d 

uiariy  rounds  of  the  ladder."  In  a  moment  of  unsuspicious 
conlidcnce,  the  latter  confided  to  Jack  the  important  secret 
that  he  had  made  himself  aiaster  of  forty  crowns,  and 
asked  the  opinion  of  (he  merry  old  sailor  "  how  he  should 
<!inploy  it  to  best  advantage,  and  in  what  speculation  it  was 
likely  to  make  the  lar^^est  return." 

Jack  answered,  with  his  tisual  good-nature,  that  "  he'd 

be  d d,  now,  if  this  wasn't  the  very  thing  he  wanted. 

I'm  your  friend,  Sor— -Tim,"  continued  he,  "  and  I'll  show 
It,  by  the  secret  I'll  let  out,  and  the  sheet-anchor  advice  I'll 
give  you,  my  boy.  When  I  was  with  old  Sir  Piercy  Brett, 
iji  the  Cockedoodledo,— heard  of  the  ship,  say  ?" 

"  Never,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  Well ;  she  was  the  largest  ship  that  ever  sailed  on  the 
ocean.  Once  upon  a  time,  when  she  was  tacking  in  the 
channel  of  England,  her  bowsprit  knocked  over  a  light- 
house on  the  coast  of  France,  while  at  the  same  moment 
her  spanker-boon  swept  off  a  flock  of  sheep  feedinij  oa 
Dover  Cliffs."  ^ 

"  Do  you  know  who—bought  the  wool  ?"  asked  the  boy. 

"  Not  I,  you  skinker.  There  were  grog-shops  on  the 
yard-arms ;  and  she  was  so  '  tant,'  that  a  lad  of  fifteen 
who  went  aloft  to  hand  the  main-royal,  after  using  all  pos- 
sible despatch,  came  down  an  old  man,  gray  as  a  rat. 
Well ;  I  was  with  old  Sir  Piercy— it  was  the  same  cruise 
in  which  he  did  that  wonderful  feat  which  has  been  so 
much  talked  of— beat  up  from  St.  Kitts  to  Grenada,  two 
hundred  leagues  in  two  tides,a^mnst  tradewind  and  current 

—true  as  gospel,  or  may  I  never Well ;  we  put  into 

Montcgo  Bay  in  a  hurricane  ;  weather  as  hot  as  h— 11 ; 
and  if  there  was— a  warming-pan  to  be  found  in  all  Jimakej 
then  you  are  neither—"  Bones"  nor  "  Sorril,"  "  Swap"  nor 
Timothy.  Gad  I  how  cross  the  admiral  was.  He  threat- 
ened to  hang  up  every  planter,  shop-keeper,  overseer, 
negro,  whether  black  or  white,  blue  or  yellow." 

"  Did  he  ?"  asked  tlie  boy  with  extreme  astonishment 


93 


DAVERniLL. 


t .; 


,-L. 


"  Ay, did  he;  English,  Scotch, Irish,  Yankee,  Mandingo, 
Koromantyn,  Whidah,  Fidah,  Benin,  Congo,  'twas  all  one. 
*  Look  you  ;  d^ — n  me,  says  he' — he'd  a  mighty  bad  prac- 
tice of  swearing ;  but,  though  both  I  and  the  chaplain  tried 
to  mend  him,  it  was  all  of  no  use — *  Look  you,  d — n  me, 
says  he,  wiien  next  I  come  this  way,  see  that  every  father's 
son  of  you  be  furnished  with  a  good  brass  warming-pan, 
or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you.'  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  am  thinking  of." 

"  What  ?"  demanded  the  boy,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  that  you  shall  supply  the  island  of  Jimake  with 
warming-pans." 

"  But  don't  you  think  somebody  has  supplied  them  be- 
fore now." 

"  1  could  almost  swear,  and  would,  if  I  didn't  hate  the 
practice,  that  they  haven't.  Nobody  but  a  sharp-witted, 
screw-auger  sort  of  a  body  like  you  or  me,  one  who  is  up 
to  snuff,  would  ever  have  thought  of  the  thing." 

«  What  shall  I  do  r 

"  Do  !  why,  buy  and  ship  as  many  warming-pans  as  you 
can  pick  up,  with  Captain  Kimball,  in  the  Sally,  which 
goes  next  week  to  Montego  Bay — the  very  spot.^  But 
mum — say  nothing;  if  you  blab  there'll  be  an  end  of  the 
matter.  Greene  and  Ninepence,  or  Buckles  and  Bagster, 
will  be  snapping  it  up,  as  one  of  your  West  India  sharks 
does  a  Guinea  nigger :  keep  it  to  yourself.     Good  by." 

And  away  went  Jack  to  enjoy  a  laugh  at  his  joke,  but 
without  a  suspicion  that  the  boy  would  take  the  thing  se- 
riously. He  set  about  it,  however,  at  once  ;  and  collected 
with  as  much  privacy  as  possible,  a  large  quantity  of  warm- 
ing-pans, to  send  to  a  climate  where  the  coldest  weather 
was  almost  equal  to  fever  heat  I  Yet  this  speculation,  the 
most  absurd  that  over  entered  into  the  head  of  a  mortal, 
yielded  a  thousand  per  cent,  profit.  The  bottoms  of  the 
pans  were  sold  at  ten  times  their  cost,  duty,  and  charges, 
for  sugar-ladles  in  the  boiling-houses  ;  and  the  perforated 
covers,  or  tops,  were  purchased  up,  at  ah  equal  advance^ 
for  skimmers  !  I^ven  the  handles  were  disposed  of,  but  I 
forget  for  what  purpose,  and  at  a  price  far  beyond  the  ori- 
ginal cost  of  the  entire  article.  The  neat  sum  obtained  for 
the  adventure  was  laid  out  in  sugar ;  and  this  receivt^d  at 


HAVERHILL. 


93 


a  fortunate  moment,  and  turned  by  the  shrewd  boy  in  the 
most  advantageous  manner,  yielded  also  a  handsome  profit. 
To  sum  up  in  the  fewest  words  possible,  the  forty  crowns 
yielded  four  hundred  and  seventy. 

He  presently  came  to  be  reckoned  one  of  those  "  whom 
the  devil  helps ;"  in  other  words  very  lucky  and  fortunate. 
Greene  and  Ninepence,  seeing  that  every  thing  prospered 
under  his  care,  proposed  to  him  to  go  out  in  a  small  sloop 
of  theirs  to  Martinique,  with  a  cargo  of  hogs  and  deal 
board.  He  was  to  have  a  small  commission  on  the  sale  of 
the  lumber;  and,  as  there  is  usually  a  gain  in  the  admea- 
surement, he  was  to  have,  besides,  "  one-half  of  all  he  sold 
more  than  there  was  !"*  When  he  arrived,  he  found  that 
one  of  his  pigs  had  its  back  broken ;  he  tied  its  legs,  and 
sold  it,  with  several  others,  as  it  was.  There  being  no 
wharfs,  he  made  part  of  his  lumber  into  a  raft,  deep  and  of 
small  surface,  and  offered  it  for  sale,  as  containing  "  two 
thousand  feet :"  tnere  proved  to  be  four  hundred  more. 
The  purchaser  believing  him  a  paragon  of  honesty,  took 
the  next  raft,  which  was  purposely  made  broad  and  shoal, 
at  more  than  double  the  number  of  feet  it  really  contained. 
Sorril  made  a  fine  speculation  for  himself,  and  one  which 
satisfied  the  owners. 

Soon  after  his  return,  he  attempted  to  build  a  small 
vessel  for  a  coaster.  When  her  sides  were  partly  planked 
up,  his  builder  went  to  him,  and  informed  him  that  he  was 
in  want  of  wak'<  (planks  for  the  bends  of  the  ship). 
Dexter  did  not  fairly  understand  what  was  meant ;  he  sup- 
posed, however,  that  it  was  the  bones  of  a  whale ;  and 
accordingly,  he  bought  up  all  the  whalebone  there  was  in 
the  market.  Some  extraordinary  event,  I  forget  what,  a 
few  months  after,  converted  this  absurd  speculation  into 
one  of  equal  profit  with  the  last. 

*  A  literal  fact.  It  formed  one  of  the  articles  of  agreement  be- 
tween an  American  supercargo,  of  the  name  of  M'Clain,  andhia  owners. 


% 


4 

it 


94 


HAVERHILL. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

He  went  on  accumulating  stock  and  increasing  in  means, 
till  soon  his  shop  exhibited  something  better  than  a  beg- 
garly account  of  empty  boxes.  Withal,  he  began  to  use 
the  conventual  and  tradescant  language  of  his  craft;  learned 
better  than  to  call  thirteen-pence  "  one  and  one-pence," 
as  it  was  said  he  did  when  he  first  opened  his  shop  ;  and 
talked  with  a  glib  tongue  of  "  losing  bargains,"  "remark- 
ably cheap,"  «  bought  at  a  sacrifice,"  »  sold  at  a  loss,"  and 
other  matters,  which,  if  fibbing  be  punished  in  another 
world,  will  go  very  near  to  fill  the  naughty  place  with  ha- 
berdashers, grocers,  mercers,  milliners,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  He  was  very  punctual  in  his  payments,  and,  I  be- 
lieve, as  nearly  honest  as  a  trader  can  be.  That  is,  his 
weights  and  measures  were  within  ten  per  cent,  of  the  legal 
standard ;  he  sold  his  sugar  with  a  trifling  alloy  of  sand, 
and  put  very  little  water  into  his  liquors,  unless  he  bought 
them  much  stronger  than  they  ought  to  be  for  the  good  of 
the  public,  and  the  interests  of  morality,  when  his  visits  to 
the  rivulet  were  more  frequent.  Upon  the  whole,  he  was 
called,  and  I  think  with  reason,  an  honest  trader. 

A  more  industrious  man  than  he  never  lived.  Every 
morning,  an  hour  before  the  lark  was  abroad,  he  opened 
the  doors  of  his  shop  and  swept  it  out,  took  down  the 
shutters  of  his  windovt^,  dusted  the  goods,  washed  the 
counter,  rinsed  the  drinking  cups,  and  was  prepared  to 
accommodate  the  boaimen  and  early  stirrers  with  the 
rum,  biscuits,  and  other  things  required  to  their  fitting  out 
for  the  day's  labour.  Those  were  times  when  early 
rising  and  incessant  watchfulness,  unceasing  industry  and 
frugality  in  expense,  brought  a  man  to  wealth.  His  prin- 
cipal capital,  then,  was  industry  and  punctuality.  His 
bank  was  the  good  report  of  men,  and  his  endorsers 
economy  and  good  management. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  night  when  the  wooing  of  the 
fair  lady  may  be  said  to  have  commenced.  *It  is  true,  the 


■.ia!EM|9sat-EWs**» 


HAVERHILL. 


95 


suitor  was  supposed  for  some  time  to  have  looked  with 
eyes  of  favour  upon  my  sister.    He  had  frequently  made 
her  presents  of  apples ;  and  once,  1  recollect,  sent  her  a 
skeui  of  silk  and  a  couple  of  large  darning-needles  as 
presents :  but  it  was  only  from  the  evening  which  followed 
a  sleighing  party  that  the  «  perfect  understanding"  may 
be  dated.     Shall  I  describe  the  occasion  which  gave  birth 
to  this  marriage  ?     Sleighing  is  the  national  amusement  of 
the  Americans  during  winter.     The  vehicle  itself  is  but  a 
better  kind  of  that  which  in  England  is  called  a  sled.     It 
is  similarly  constructed,  and  bears  a  similar  name  in  the 
north  of  Europe.     I  once  saw,  in  Nottinghamshire,  what 
would  have  passed  for  a  New-England  sleigh-r-a  vehicle 
built,  painted,  and  harnessed  in  just  the  same  fashion. 
That  in  which  the  young  people  of  our  hamlet  usually 
made  their  excursions  was  called  a  double  one.     It  con- 
sisted of  something  less  than  a  thousand  feet  of  boards, 
unpainted,  unplaned,  and  in  this  rough  state,  and  with  an 
eye  only  to  its  durability,  nailed  together  and  appended  to 
two  poles.     The  team  which  drew  it  was  usually  a  couple 
of  brown  horses ;  but  when  there  were  a  great  many  to 
be  taken  out  in  it,— for  it  would  hold.  Jack  Reeve  said, 
half  as  many  persons  as  a  man-of-war,— two  other  horses 
were  added,  usually  Captain  Maltby's  lame  cob,  and  Mr. 
Merry's  superannuated  galloway.     To  the  collars  of  each 
of  the  horses  two  small  bells  were  affixed,  the  jingling  of 
which  was  supposed  to  act  as  a  kind  of  spur,  and  was  the 
acwmpaniment  to  the  "go  along  I  telle"  of  the  driver. 

This  driver  was  Cesar,  so  renowned  in  the  annals  of 
"huskmg;"  the  general  oracle,  in  many  matters  the  con- 
troller,  and  in  all  the  adviser  of  the  people  of  our  hamlet. 
He  too  deserves  a  passing  word  ;  for  the  class  to  which 
he  belonged,  to  wit,  slaves,  numerous  in  my  youthful  days, 
exist  no  longer.  Cesar  was  a  Pauyjaw,  or  Whidaw,  torn 
from  the  mud-walled  cabin  of  his  father,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Volta,  on  the  slave  coast  proper,  while  yet  a  slender 
boy.  He  was  not  so  young  though,  at  the  period  of  his 
abduction,  but  that  he  remembered  many  of  his  country's 
superstitions,  and  talked  like  a  veracious  chronicler  of  the 
spirits  and  goblins  which  peopled  the  groves  of  palms  and 
plantains  upon  the  banks  of  his  native  river.    With  the 


*Wm  ''j^^^^k^M 

m 

Wii 

If'/iitJ    n^iii 


96 


BAVERHILXi. 


superstitions  of  Africa  he  had  mixed  those  of  the  American 
Indians,  a  small  tribe  of  which  lived  not  far  from  us.  He 
knew  also,  and  could  repeat  with  astonishing  accuracy,  the 
thousand  and  one  witch  stories  current  in  New-England. 
Then,  he  could  play  sweetly  on  the  fiddle,  and  was 
decidedly  the  best  charioteer  in  the  village.  Who  can 
wonder  at  the  immense  popularity  he  enjoyed,  when  it 
was  he  who  so  often  beguiled  the  lagging  hours  of  the 
aged  with  the  story  of  a  life  spent  in  Africa,  the  West 
Indies,  and  other  regions,  brimful  of  incident  and  adven- 
ture ?  when  it  was  his  nimble  fingers  which  discoursed 
"Over  the  Shoals,"  "The  Dusty  Miller,"  "High  Betty 
Martin,"  and  other  tunes,  which  sent  the  lads  and  lasses 
upon  the  floor  in  lively  reels  and  jigs  ?  when  it  was  he  who 
collected  the  great  crowd  of  urchins  upon  the  village 
green  of  a  Saturday  afternoon,  to  listen  to  his  long  narra- 
tives of  the  experiences  he  had  had  among  witches  and 
goblins  in  two  hemispheres?  None,  sure,  will  be  sur- 
prised at  the  great  degree  of  favour  he  enjoyed. 

The  equipment  of  the  young  men  and  women  of  our 
party  deserves  especial  mention.  Each  was  dressed  out 
in  his  or  her  "  go-to-meeting,"  or  Sunday  apparel,  it  being 
the  fashion  of  the  country  to  don  their  best  attire  for  the 
simplest  occasion.  The  girls  wore  linsey-woolsey  gowns, 
checked  aprons  and  drugget  cloaks — cardinals  I  cannot 
call  them,  for  it  was  only  when  they  were  worn  by  the 
great  that  they  took  that  ambitious  title.  Galoshes,  or 
overshoes,  made  of  fist  and  nicely  laced  to  the  ancle,  pro- 
tected the  feet,  an  ofllice  which  was  performed  for  the 
hand  by  coarse  woollen  mittens,  to  knit  which  was  and  is 
to  a  proverb  the  employment  of  the  women  on  the  mari- 
time border  of  New-England,  in  the  long  evenings  of 
autumn  and  winter.  The  other  sex  too  were  dressed  like 
him  who  went  to  woo  "  Sally  in  our  alley," 

"AH  in  their  best;" 

which,  however,  was  nothing  more  than  a  roundabout  and 
trousers  of  the  coarse  cloth  vulgarly  called  "  bear-skin," 
with  a  peajacket,  or  sailor's  great  coat,  of  the  same  coarse 
material  as  the  body  suit.    A  large  cotton  handkerchief, 


HAVERHILL. 


97 


tied  over  the  ears  and  fastened  under  the  chin  of  each, 
protected  the  former  from  freezing;  and  the  feet  were 
cased  in  shoes  as  heavy  and  clumsy  as  a  pair  of  LincolR- 
shire  shooting  shoes.  Thus  apparelled,  they  set  out  with 
the  happy  and  loquacious  Cesar  as  their  charioteer,  and 
provided  with  a  variety  of  good  things  to  make  the 
evening  pass  pleasantly ;— cakes,  pies,  tarts,  a  cold  baked 
goose,  eggs  for  the  making  of  "  egg-nogg,"  sugar  for  the 
sweetening,  lemons  for  the  souring,  and  cinnamon  and  nut- 
meg for  the  spicing  of  toddy  and  punch.  Reader  !  that 
hast  ever  been  at  a  New-England  merry-making  among 
the  vulgar,  thou  wilt  be  at  no  loss  to  call  to  mind  the 
various  and  discordant,  the  rare  and  odd  viands  that  went 
to  its  composition.  Positively,  I  have  seen  at  these  rustic 
feasts  a  plate  of  custards  standing  beside  a  boiled  goose, 
and  onions  served  with  a  plumb-pudding  and  pumpkin 
pies. 

Upon  their  arrival,  and  as  soon  as  the  blood  could  be 
made  to  circulate  through  the  half-frozen  hands  and  feet, 
and  the  customary  greetings  and  salutations  had  taken 
place,  the  Pawpaw  tuned  liis  fiddle,  the  beaux  put  on  then- 
huge  square-toed  pumps,  the  belles  threw  off  their 
galoches  to  display  their  little  feet  in  peaked-toed,  high- 
heeled  slippers,  and  the  noisy  dance  began.  The  hour  of 
commencing  was  four  o'clock,  P.  M.  They  danced  until 
half-past  eight,  when  they  returned  home  ;  for  to  be  abroad 
after  nine  on  common  occasions  was  considered  at  that 
time,  in  New-England,  a  sure  sign  of  moral  depravity,  as 
well  as  lax  parental  rule.  I  was  not  of  this  party ;  some 
excuse  served  me  to  spend  the  evening  at  home  with  my 
parents,  but  my  sister  Sally,  whose  talents  at  description 
were  of  a  high  order,  gave  me  the  above  very  circumstan- 
tial account. 

That  night  completed  my  sister  Jenny's  conquest.  The 
day  after  the  next  my  father  received  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Dexter,  worded  with  all  the  formality  supposed  necessary 
to  the  transaction  of  commercial  business,  stating  the 
amount  of  his  debts,  credits,  stock,  cash  in  the  till,  &c.,  all 
written  in  large  copy-hand,  requesting  permission  to 
"  come  and  see"  (the  New-England  phrase  for  soliciting  to 
marriage)  «  his  daughter."    I  must,  however,  remark  that 

Vol!  1.-9 


'■  If 


mce^ 


98 


HAVERHILL. 


•  f'  '  W 


11 


this  was  out  of  the  usual  course  of  things  among  the  lower 
classes,  with  whom  matrimonial  projects  were  much  easier, 
and  with  much  less  ceremony  ripened  into  accomplish- 
ment, than  they  were  among  the  higher  classes.  Indeed, 
so  unusual  was  the  course  adopted  by  Mr.  Dexter,  that  I 
am  sure  the  missive  which  hailed  Macbeth  "  thane  of 
Cawdor"  was  not  less  looked  for  than  the  paper  which 
made  knOwn  the  hopes  and  intentions  of  Mr.  Dexter 
respecting  my  sister.  Indeed,  it  was  so  out  of  the  way 
for  one  in  his  station  addressing  a  family  so  poor  and 
humble  as  ours,  that  Sally,  in  defiance  of  a  horrid  frown 
from  the  "  elect  lady,"  declared  that  "  Sorril  was,,  after 
all,  a  great  fool." 

The  scene  which  took  place  at  the  reception  and  open- 
ing of  that  letter  was  well  calculated  to  provoke  laughter. 
The  lover  brought  it  himself  to  the  head  of  the  little  lane, 
some  twenty  rods  from  the  house,  where  he  committed  it 
for  the  final  posting  to  a  deaf  and  dumb  boy,  who  put  it  in 
through  a  broken  pane  of  glass,  at  the  early  hour  of  eight 
in  the  morning,and  in  the  midst  of  a  tremendous  fali  of  snow. 
It  was  a  very  cold  day,  and  those  of  the  family  who  had 
risen  were  shivering  over  a  half-kindled  fire,  and  tliose  who 
had  not  were  from  time  to  time  peering  out  to  see  what  pro- 
gress was  making  in  raising  the  flame  to  the  height  which 
should  make  it  safe  to  venture  forth,  when  the  announce- 
ment that  there  was  a  "  letter,  a  great  big  letter,  fastened 
together  with  red  wax,  for  father,"  brought  all  the 
absentees  from  their  warm  beds  in  the  teeth  of  the  peril. 
We  knew  not  what  to  make  of  it.  My  father  placed  him- 
self at  the  side  of  my  mother,  as  he  was  wont  to  do  upon 
any  important  occasion,  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  broke 
the  fearful  seal,  his  hand  trembling  with  fear  that  the  inno- 
cent scrawl  would  disclose  some  afflicting  event.  My 
younger  brothers,  two  of  them  but  half  dressed,  stood 
peering  over  his  shoulder,  or  thrusting  their  head'  under 
his  arm  to  listen  to  the  wordy  epistle.  It  was  the  first, 
bearing  the  impression  of  a  seal,  which  had  ever  been 
received  by  my  father. 

When  the  contents  had  been  duly  made  known,  and  the 
figures  carefully  added  up  by  Michael — at  his  urgent  re- 
quest (he  was  studying  arithmetic),  to  see  that  they  were 


^ni 


HAVERHILL. 


99 


all  right,  our  house  could  have  vied  with  Babel  for  noise. 
There  was  singing,  laughing,  dancing,  screaming,  huzzaing, 
clapping  of  hands,  stamping,  and  the  various  other  discord- 
ant strains  of  merriment  which  take  place  upon  joyful  oc 
casions  in  the  dwellings  of  those  whom  no  ceremony  binds 
to  a  regulated  "  choir  service."  Some  slapped  Jenny  upon 
the  shoulder,  others  kissed  her,  some  gently  and  others 
roughly. 

«  Mother,"  asked  Sally,  «  shall  us  have  a  great  wedding?" 
"Mother,  will   Sorril  come    in  a  shay?"  demanded 
Michael. 

"Pshaw!  Mikey,  you  mustn't  call  him  Sorril  now,"  said 
ray  mother,  hoping  to  silence  his  mischievous  tongue  by 
kindness. 

"Well,  Swap,  then,  mother?" 

"  Nor  Swap  neither,  my  child." 

"  Bones  ?" 

"  Michael !"  said  my  father,  doing  the  best  he  could  to 
look  stern,  "  if  you  don't  be  quiet,  and  let  alone  calling  Mr. 
Dexter  nicknames,  I'll  even  see  if  I  can't  cure  you  with  a 
whip,  I  will." 

Michael  then  turned  his  wit  and  interrogatories  into 
another  channel.  «  Mother,  if  you  make  a  plumb-pudding 
—a  boiled  pudding,  what  will  you  do  for  a  bag  ?  remember 
the  pig  tore  the  old  one  to  pieces.  Father,  will  Cesar 
come  with  his  fiddle  ?  Mother,  will  us,  too,  have  cake, 
great  big  heaps  of  cake,  as  Molly  Sprague  had  when  she 
was  married  ?     Tim,  you  can't  be  at  home,  you've  no 

shoes.     But  you  can  take  some  of  your  mackerel,  and 

Swap— oh,  the  Lord  I  Don't  father,  I'll  never  say  so  again 
while  I've hmies  in  my  body,"  &c. 

As  soon  as  silence  could  be  restored,  my  father  demand- 
ed of  rtiy  sister  what  answer  should  be  made  Mr.  Dexter. 
The  basiness  was  soon  settled  by  her  modest  acknow- 
ledgements, that  she  didn't  know,  but  she  guessed  that,  if 
they  thought  it  for  the  best,  she  would  venture  to— to 
marry  him. 

"  But  do  you  like  him  ?"  asked  my  father. 

«  Why  s— o— m— e,"  said  Jenny ;  «  and  I  guess  I  shall 
like  him  more  the  more  5  know  of  him." 

"And,  now,  Lynn,"  said  my  father,  chuckling  at  the  idea 


I 


u 


3  :ti 


100 


HAVSnHILL. 


that  my  sister  was  to  marry  a  rich— fool,  "you  must  answer 
the  letter."  I  pleaded  hard  with  my  father  to  make  a 
personal  call  upon  the  suitor,  but  the  idea  had  taken 
complete  possession  of  his  mind  that  writing  was  just  the 
thing,  and,  as  usual,  he  would  not  be  persuaded.  So  I  sat 
down  and  wrote  from  his  and  my  mother's  dictation  as  fol- 
lows. I  have  made  no  alteration  in  the  style  and  arrange- 
ment ;  and  I  have  also  given  a  fac-simile  of  the  scrawls 
and  blots  occasioned  by  Michael's  twitchings  and  joggings. 


'Onyfi^ 


-^J^ 


7u^tX>/i^^   C^C/tM  ^Cr-ui, .  (Z^n^cL  ^\^(t-U)  /Lej/iyCU 


y 


you. 


^to^^eTtdX)^  C   A^acyi,  'JjU^  TkliyHk^  Ufcn^/- 
/o  LU 


^in^L^  (Z^ecJ^i^ona^id^ 


cyi/. 


i/}ThOny 


A^coo-etAt^ 


i 


'^^^p ...  > 


HAVERHILL. 


101 


The  lover  came  that  evening,  and  the  business  was  con- 
cluded. They  v^rere  «  published,"  that  is,  proclaimed  the 
next  Sabbath,  and  the  marriage  took  place  as  soon  as  the 
"  three  Sundays"  of  proclamation,  required  by  law,  were 
completed. 

The  manner  of  conducting  a  wedding  in  New-England, 
at  the  period  I  am  writing  of,  may  be  learned  from  the  des- 
cription I  am  about  to  give  of  that  which  took  place  in  our 
family.  Great  weddings,  by  which  I  mean  lavish  expendi- 
ture, and  a  great  accumulation  of  company,  were  then  the 
prevailing  fashion,  from  the  humblest  cottage  to  the  proudest 
mansion.  The  poorest  labourer  vied  with  the  most  opulent 
gentleman — that  is,  he  asked  as  many  as  his  house  could 
contain,  and  he  gave  them  to  eat  and  drink  far  more  than 
his  means  permitted.  It  was  not  seldom  that  the  expense 
attending  these  weddings  put  the  family,  to  use  a  sea  phrase, 
"  upon  short  allowance"  for  a  twelvemonth  after.  These 
expensive  weddings  cannot  be  said  to  have  had  their  origin 
in  social  feeling  and  love  of  merriment,  or  of  whiskey,  like 
those  of  the  Irish,  for  the  inhabitants  of  New-England  arc 
by  nature  extremely  parsimonious,  sober  as  judges,  and 
fiolemn  as  deacons,  and  care,  in  general,  far  less  tor  a  merry- 
making than  the  coin  it  melts  to  procure  it.  But  they  are 
very  proud,  and  thence  prone  to  indulge  upon  occasions 
in  great  expense,  that  their  doings  may  be  noised  abroad, 
and  the  reputation  of  liberality  and  ability  to  spend  may 
rest  with  them. 

My  mother,  who  took  upon  herself  the  ordering  of 
Jenny's  wedding,  was  careful  to  see  that  the  company  were 
f>aired  with  the  most  scrupulous  regard  to  age  and  inclina- 
tion. And  here  Michael,  for  the  first  time  in  my  recol- 
lection, made  himself  useful,        V 

Altogether,  the  company  consisted  of  about  sixty ; — 
could  the  house  have  contained  a  thousand  it  would  have 
been  filled.  They  were  invited  to  attend  precisely  at  three 
o'clock.  At  three  o'clock  they  came.  It  was  a  clear  cold 
evening,  wjien  girl  after  girl,  making  use  of  Nature's  sim- 
plest mode  of  volition,  came  trotting  along  in  their  pattens 
over  the  frozen  snow  with  as  much  glee  as  if  they  hf\d  been 
drawn  by  six  of  the  finest  bays  that  ever  were  harnessed 
to  a  Lord  Mayor's  state-coach.    Some  of  the  women 

9* 


,_JifM!»>P>t  I. 


103 


RAVEHHILL. 


rode  upon  pilions  behind  their  partners,  and  a  few  came 
in  sleighs ;  but  the  greater  part  were  on  foot. 

It  was  usual  for  the  parson  to  delay  his  coming  till  four 
or  half-past  four  o'clock ;  the  latter  time  had  passed  upon 
this  occasion  before  he  came.  The  interval  between  the  as- 
sembling of  the  company  and  the  arrival  of  the  pa^'son  was 
what  the  young  people  called  the  "  cream  of  the  business," 
and  was  variously  passed  by  the  guests,  as  their  ages,  dis- 
positions, and  pursuits  were  various.  The  boys  and  girls 
passed  it  in  mirth  and  laughter,  in  romping  and  flirting ; 
the  more  aged  and  seriously  inclined,  in  conversation  upon 
sober  and  serious  matters,  the  weather,  the  state  of  the 
church,  and  of  markets  for  fish  and  train  oil,  the  war  in 
Canada,  the  late  sea-fights  in  the  West  Indies,  &c. 

At  last  came  the  parson,  full  dressed,  in  gown,  cassock, 
bands,  and  a  wig  of  monstrous  proportions.  It  was  not 
the  custom  in  1758,  as  at  the  present  day,  for  a  parson  to 
attend  a  wedding  in  simple  black  coat  and  trousers.  No- 
thing  less  than  full  canonicals  served  them  ;  and  the  omis- 
sion to  don  the  best  apparel  was  construed  into  great  dis- 
respect. His  suit  must  be  a  very  good  black,  his  band 
lawn,  and  very  white,  and  his  demeanour  as  reverend  as 
his  wig. 

The  appearance  of  the  parson  was  the  sign  I'vfor  silence, 
a  smooth  brow,  and  a  staid  manner.  Soon  the  waiters, 
who  were  no  other  than  my  eldest  brother  and  sister,  en- 
tered, the  former  sustaining  a  shining  mahogany  tray,  bor- 
rowed for  the  occasion  from  a  neighbour,  upon  which  were 
an  infinite  number  of  teacups  and  saucers,  which  according 
to  the  fashion  of  the  times,  held  but  little  more  than  e  com- 
mon thimble.  The  twin  waiter,  borne  by  my  sister,  was 
piled  high  with  nut-cakes  and  bread  and  butter.  When 
the  company  had  partaken  of  the  tea,  and  its  attendant 
dainties,  the  bride  and  brdegroom,  with  the  bride's  men 
and  bride's  maids,  entered  from  the  back  room,  where  they 
had  been  sitting  with  a  very  lame  attempt  at  state.  The 
party  soon  arranged  themselves,  and  Mr.  Hawes  united 
the  pair.  When  it  was  finished,  the  parson  made  a  long 
and  serious  address  to  the  young  couple,  during  which  the 
conduct  of  the  company  varied  much.  My  parents  wept, 
the  elderly  ladies  looked  with  much  meaning  at  the  young 


HAVERHILL. 


101 


unmarried  females,  who  put  up  their  hps,  and  played  with 
their  feet  on  the  floor,  in  aifected  disUke  of  the  subiect-mat- 
ter  of  the  discourse  ;  while  the  young  men  hunched  each 
other  with  their  elbows,  and  grinned  slily  at  the  sober 
truths  uttered  by  the  reverend  gentleman.  Michael  was, 
of  course,  as  "busy  as  the  devil  in  a  hurricane,"  and  asked 
Sally,  in  a  whisper,  which  was  overheard  by  half  the  com- 
pany, "  If  she  ever  see'd  Sorril  look  so  well  before  ?" 

Soon  after,  the  parson  took  his  leave.  To  those  who 
know  the  restraints  his  presence  imposed,  it  is  unnecessary 
to  say  that  the  pleasure  manifested  at  his  removal  of  him- 
self was  by  no  means  equivocal.  The  hubbub  commenced 
with  salutmg  the  bride.  The  kisses  employed  in  the  per- 
formance of  this  duty  sounded  like  an  irregular  discharge 
of  fire-arms.  This  service  ended,  the  fiddle  of  the  happy 
Cesar  began  to  discourse  its  beautiful  discords.  The 
newly-married  couple  and  my  father  and  mother  were  out 
for  the  first  dance ;  after  which  the  company  danced  reels 
and  jigs  till  supper  was  ready.  I  cannot  find  space  to  give 
this  supper  a  full  description ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that  it  con- 
sisted of  all  the  genuine  Yankee  delicacies,  meats— baked, 
boiled,  and  stewed,  pumpkin  pies  and  puddings,  cranberry 
and  apple  pies  gingerbread,  &c.  &c.  I  shall  say  nothing 
of  the  vast  mtity  eaten  by  the  guests,  or  of  the  gout 
with  which  they  swallowed  the  choice  bits  provided  for 
them. 

When  the  feast  was  ended,  the  subsidiary  purpose  of  the 
feast,  the  joking  and  rallying,  succeeded.  Some  of  the 
jokes  were  "  rather  too  much  to  the  purpose  ;"  but  it  was 
considered  that  no  "  harm  was  meant,"  and  they  passed  off 
well  enough. 

At  an  early  hour  they  separated ;  and  so  ended  the  occa- 
sion, which  served  to  give  a  little  variety  to  a  gloomy  month. 
It  furnished  a  subject  for  a  great  deal  of  talk  among  the 
villagers — that  part  of  them  who  were  not  invited — de- 
claring that  so  foolish  and  wicked  a  thing  had  never  been 
done  within  their  recollection.  "  He'd  better  have  laid  it 
out  in  a  cow,"  said  Margery  Luce. 

"  He'd  better  have  bought  a  bed  with  the  money ;"  said 
Temperance  Howland. 

"After  all,  Sorril  is  a  fool ;  and  it  «an't  be  any  great 
catch  to  get  a  fool,"  said  Dinah  Davis. 


104 


HAVERHILL. 


■I."  ;  i  ' 


ini 


m' 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  winter  of  1 7.58-9  passed  away  without  the  occur- 
rcnee  of  nny  thing  of  very  great  importance  to  break  iu  I 
quiet.  In  the  month  of  January,  1759,  there  were  two 
vessels  cast  away,  the  plundering  of  which  aftbrded  con- 
siderable business,  and  brought  some  money  or  moneyV 
worth,  to  the  village.  There  was  an  arbitration  of  the 
claims  for  saving  the  part  which  was  not  stolen,  but  whicii  I 
might  as  well  have  been,  for  the  charges  amount^.!,  as 
usual,  to  something  more  than  the  value  of  the  articles 
saved.  There  were  three  or  four  marriages  in  the  place, 
and  the  usual  proofs  exhibited,  both  "  at  the  present  time," 
and  "in  future,"  of  the  great  value  of  a  fish  diet  in  settling 
new  countries.  There  were  two  "  accidents,"  both  in  the 
family  of  the  pious  puritan  Deacon  Lumbert ;  and  there 
was,  oesides,  the  usual  quantity  of  ipinor  joys  and  sorrows, 
good  and  ill  fortune.  Becky  Peabody  married  General 
Trimbush,  of  Sag  Harbour,  and  Captain  Dill  ran  away 
with  the  daughter  of  his  excellency  Governor  Mayhew, 
of  Chilmark,  and  got — forgive  me  the  expression — most 
cursedly  bit.  Upon  the  whole,  the  lottery  of  marriage 
that  year  afforded  far  less  than  its  usual  proportion  of  | 
blanks — it  was  a  "  white  year"  in  the  records  of  matri- 
mony. 

It  may  be  remembered  that  I  had  fixed  upon  the  month 
of  March  for  my  departure.  As  that  month  approached, 
the  gloom  deepened  upon  the  faces  of  my  family.  At 
their  persuasion  I  consented  to  defer  my  going  till  my  bro- 
ther John  should  be  so  far  recov  ■  >d  from  the  effects  of  a 
bad  fall  upon  the  ice  as  to  be  ab!f^  '  v;  3  his  seri  ii  the 
fishing-boat.  I  knew  his  seat  (  'u  '.siierwise  filled— 
there  were  twenty  ready  to  take  the  unemployed  oar,  but 
I  also  knew,  and  properly  appreciated,  the  beautiful  feel- 
ing which  induced  my  affectionate  parents  to  seize  on  this 
pretext  to  detain  me  at  home,  and  render  nugatory  the 
consent  I  had  wrung  from  them.    The  love  of  a  mother  for 


lil'i 


s 


i. 


MAVBBHILL. 


105 


her  chiklrcn  probably  is  the  strongest  passion  of  which 
human  nature  is  susceptible,  and  sometimes  leads  to  singular 
modes  and  proofs  of  ullection.  I  am  certain  that  the  love 
my  mother  bore  me  would  have  made  her  wish  my  brother 
John  a  cripple  for  life,  so  it  should  have  been  the  means  of 
detaining  me  at  the  parental  hearth-stone.  I  cannot  de- 
scribe the  disappointment  which  was  visible  in  her  coun- 
tenance when  the  bruises  began  to  put  off  their  blue  and 
purple  livery,  and  the  staff  was  dispensed  with,  and  the 
announcement  was  made  that  within  four  days  he  would 
bo  as  well  as  ever.  She  could  not  control  her  tears,  and 
rush  t1  IVom  the  dinner  table  to  give  vent  to  them  in  an- 
other apartment. 

To  prepare  the  family  gradually  for  the  event,  and  to 
render  the  parting  as  little  painful  as  possible,  I  began  to 
bustle  about,  and  to  make  my  preparations  for  departure. 
The  bare  mention  of  the  army  threw  my  mother  into  great 
ogony.  It  had  been  one  of  the  multifarious  employments 
of  that  sad  fellow,  old  Jack,  to  sit  cross-legged  at  our 
winter-fire,  and  detail  his  imminent  perils  and  hair-breadth 
escapes  in  the  old  German  wars.  He  had  all  the  partiality 
of  a  veteran  tar  for  the  ocean,  and  exalted  the  dangers  and 
hardships  of  military  life,  and  depressed  those  of  the  naval, 
with  as  little  truth  as  courtesy.  If  you  believed  him,  and 
my  mother  did  with  the  faith  of  a  devotee,  it  was  just 
nothing  at  all  to  be  drowned,  or  killed  by  a  musket  or  can- 
non ball  fired  from  a  ship,  or  to  be  transfixed  with  a  board 
ing-pike  in  her  nettings,  but  it  was  exceedingly  painful  as 
well  as  troublesome  to  be  killed  in  "the  campaigning  busi- 
ness, in  that  same  d — d  thundering  land-service."  She  had 
listened  to  these  stories  till  she  believed  them,  and  now,  as 
a  consequence,  attached  the  same  opinions  to  the  two 
modes  of  warfare  that  were  held  by  the  veracious  chroni- 
cler of  Hawke  and  Anson.  To  soothe  her  as  much  as  pos- 
sible I  promised  that  I  would  take  a  sea  voyage  before  I 
tried  military  life.  It  was  not  necessary  that  I  should  ap- 
prize her  of  my  determination  not  to  go  an  iota  beyond  this 
engagement— unless  indeed  that  upon  a  further  acquaint- 
ance with  the  ocean,  I  should  like  it  well  enough  to  make 
it  the  field  of  my  future  exertions.  Probably,  the  life  of  a 
sailor  is  easier  than  that  of  a  soldier,  but  glory  was  my 


!!■ 


106 


HAVEIlIIILr,. 


'I   .  .( 


m 


; '?  ' 


i]^ 


object,  and  I  suppose  it  is  easier  attained  in  the  conflicts 
of  armies  upon  tho  land  than  of  navies  upon  the  ocean 
let  valour  and  heroism  are  quite  as  conspicuous  in  the 
sailor  as  the  soldier— perhaps  more  universally  so.    It  need 
not  be  said  that  when  sailors  fight  it  is  more  like  devils  than 
Jike  men.    There  is  something  in  nautical  life  and  pursuits 
which  cultivates  the  rough  and  martial  energies  of  our  na- 
ture, without  extinguishing  those  which  are  essentially  mild 
and  tender,  and  by  accustoming  us  to  one  class  of  terrors 
inspires  us  with  resolution  to  face  that  of  another.     Thougl' 
valour  be  valour  every  where,  and  true  courage  the  same ' 
in  all  situations,  it  is  certain  that  no  class  of  men  so  little 
tear  death  and  danger  as  those  who  are  bred  to  the  ocean 
and  accustomed  betimes  to  the  terrors  of  a  sea-storm,  and 
a  sea-battle.     To  them  the  former  is  absolutely  nothing 
at  all,  and  the  latter  a  mere  frolic,— rather  a  grave  one  it  is 
true,  but  still  a  frolic,  and  is  met  with  as  little  tremor  of  the 
nerves  as  the  first  dance  after  a  return  from  a  three  years' 
cruise.     How  is  this  insensibility  to  fear  acquired  ?     By 
habit  ?     The  initiated  say  it  is,  and  Jack  himself  will  tell 
you  that — 

"  When  once  you're  used  to  it,  Uis  nothing  at  all."  I 

Whatever  were  my  thoughts  of  the  comparative  value  of 
the  two  branches  of  the  "  Killing-no-Murder"  trade,  I 
kept  them  to  myself,  and  went  on  in  orderly  preparation 
|or  my  intended  voyage.  There  was  about  twenty  shil- 
Jmgs  due  to  me  from  the  farmers  for  whom  I  had  done 
work;  and  this  was  appropriated  to  the  purchase  of 
articles  absolutely  necessary  to  my  equipment.  I  collected 
my  clothes— a  lean  wardrobe,  and  set  my  sisters  to  re- 
pairing  them,  replacing  the  metal  or  pewter  buttons  with 
the  more  characteristic  buttons  of  horn,  and  sewin^ 
patches  upon  the  elbows,  and  wherever  the  cloth  had  given 
way  or  was  likely  to  do  so  soon.  They  made  ine  a 
number  of  shirts  of  "checked  homespun"  (a  kind  of 
coarse  cotton  cloth),  and  of  red  baize,  and  my  dear 
mother,  with  many  sighs  and  tears,  hut  not  a  word  of  com- 
plaint,  sat  down  to  mend  my  stockings,  and  to  knit  me  a 
couple  ot  woollen  caps  or  wigs.     My  father  covered  me 


i' 


HAVERHILL. 


107 


a  couple  of  hats  with  new  "  tarpaulins,"  i.  e.  canvass  be- 
smeared with  tar ;  my  brother  Jame^painted  my  sea-chest 
anew,  and  put  on  a  new  lock  ;  while  Timothy,  not  to  be 
behind  the  others  in  kindness,  went  to  work,  and  intro- 
duced half  a  fathom  of  codline  through  the  handle  of  my 
huge  jack-knife,  in  order  to  its  being  slung  around  my 
neck,  the  approved  mode  of  carrying  this  indispensable 
article  of  nautical  life.  These  are  the  known  preparations 
of  sailor-boys  for  their  maiden  voyage.  These  details 
may  be  uninteresting,— undoubtedly,  will  be  so  to  many, 
for  I  have  not  said  a  word  about  the  "  duke,"  or  the 
« dutchess,"  nor  named  "  Sir  Peter,"  or  "  Lady  Wil- 
helmina,"  once^  But  1  must  again  remind  my  readers  that 
mine  is  a  tale  of  hunible  life,  and  embraces  a  portion  of 
the  simple  annals  of  the  poor.  I  will  not  consent  to  de- 
stroy its  verisimilitude,  because  the  refined  may  choose  to 
smile  at  my  homely  descriptions  and  unadorned  phrase- 
ology. Upon  my  own  head  be  the  disgrace,  and  upon 
myself,  and  not  to  my  excellent  publishers  the  loss,  if  I 
fail,  by  reason  of  painting  too  literally  and  minutely  the 
circumstances  which  happen  when  friendless  youths 
embark  on  the  voyage  of  life. 

It  was  now  the  first  of  March— I  named  the  twentieth 
of  the  month  as  the  day  upon  which  I  should  leave  home. 
There  was  to  be  an  opportunity  to  go  to  Boston  upon  that 
day,  and  I  intended  to  embrace  it.  That  town  was  then, 
as  it  is  now,  the  great  maritime  and  commercial  mart  of 
New-England,  and  the  place  to  which  sailors  resorted,  in 
greatest  numbers,  to  procure  nautical  situations,  or 
"  berths,"  as  they  are  technically  called.  I  was,  besides, 
to  receive  ten  shillings  for  assisting  to  navigate  the  vessel 
thither,  end  I  need  not  say  how  important  the  smallest 
trifle  was  to  an  unbefriended  boy  with  only  two  crowns  in 
his  pocket. 

It  was  natural  that  I  should  wish  to  see  Mary  before  my 
departure.  I  had  not  seen  her  to  speak  with  her  since  the 
preceding  September,  nor  had  I  sought  opportunities  to 
do  so.  But  now  that  I  was  about  to  leave  home,  I  knew 
not  for  how  long,  my  resolution  to  avoid  her  gave,  way, 
and  I  said  to  myself  "  I  will  try  to  see  her  once  more.  It 
cannot  do  any  harm  surely.    The  difficulties  which  at 


?M 


108 


IIAV£RUILL. 


present  impede  our  union  may  be  overcome  perhaps.  If 
I  fail  of  seeing  her,  why,  after  all,  it  is  only  giving  myself 
a  walk,  which  will  be  very  good  to  *  stretch  my  legs,'  as  my 
poor  mother  says." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

It  was  just  after  sunset  when  I  repaired  to  the  spot  con- 
secrated by  affection,  and  so  often  mentioned  in  the  early 
part  of  my  story.  It  was  a  very  beautiful  evening  for 
that  season  of  the  year ;  the  mild  condition  of  the  skies 
trebled  my  chances  for  a  happy  accomplishmeni  of  my 
object.  I  seated  myself,  upon  my  arrival,  on  the  old 
bench,  and  was  employed  in  recarving  the  name  of| 
"  Mary,"  a  former  labour  of  mine,  but  now  defaced  by 
time,  or  a  ruthless  hand,  when  I  heard  a  light  footstep 
rustling  the  dried  grass  on  the  bank  above  me.  Turning 
round,  I  beheld  Mary,  standing  within  a  few  feet  of  me. 
In  a  moment  I  was  at  her  side.  She  gave  me  ;her  hand, 
and  half  wiUingly,  half  reluctantly,  permitted  me  to  kiss 
her  cheek. 

She  was  much  thinner  and  paler  than  when  I  saw  her 
last ;  her  rosy  cheek  and  laughing  eye  were  gone :  the 
snow  was  scarcely  whiter  than  the  former,  and  the  latter 
was  even  now  dimmed  with  a  tear.  We  sat  down 
together  on  the  bench,  and  remained  seated  several 
minutes  before  either  of  us  spoke.  It  was  not  an  "  unex- 
pressive  silence,"  however ;  for  her  hand  was  in  mine,  and 

her  head bless  me  1     I  forgot  the  lesson  inculcated 

in  page  86. 

She  was  the  first  to  break  silence.  In  a  low  voice,  and 
with  a  mournful  smile,  she  said — 

«  I  did  not  think  to  find  you  here,  I  thought  your  visits 
to  the  larch  were  suspended ;  I  thought  you  nad  forgotten 
the  tree,  and  all  connected  with  it." 

"  Unkind  girl,"  said  I,  while  I  pressed  her  gently  to  me, 
*'  how  could  you  think  I  should  forget  the  larch  ?    Oh,  no, 


"»•".», 


di  low  voice,  and 


HAVERHILL.  IQ^ 

dearest  Mar}',  I  am  a  thorough  reminiscent  of  the  days 
that  are  passed— the  happiness  1  have  experienced  in  vour 
company."  ^ 

"No  romance  to-night,  Lynn,"  said  she,  with  a  laugh, 
which  was  a  little  like  that  of  the  earlier  days  of  our  ac- 
quaintance. «'  You  know  I  do  not  like  any  thing  that 
sounds  like  romance,  which  is  somewhat  strange  for  a  girl 
of  mv  years  ;  but  I  do  not.  And  if  I  did,  I  should  have, 
I  think,  taste  enough  to  see  that  this  is  not  a  fitting  time. 
A  romantic  speech  would  suit  a  May  morning,  when  one 
goes  to  gather  primroses,  or  a  July  evening  in  a  honey- 
suckle bower,  but  not  to-night.  It  is  true  it  is  a  very  fine 
evening ;  but  still  it  is  a  March  evening,  and  there  is  at 
this  very  moment  a  large  snow-bank  lying  within  ten  rod» 
ol  us.     Oh,  Lynn  !"  and  she  actually  smiled. 

"It  is  not  romance,  but  truth,  dear  Mary,  that  I  am 
uttering,"  said  I;  "I  have  forgotten  nothing— can  never 
forget  anything  connected  with  you.  I  remember  every 
word  you  ever  uttered  in  my  presence." 

"  You  must  have  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  in  your  head, 

"  Now,  do  be  quiet.  I  remember  every  look  you  ever 
gave  me ;  and  I  esteem  as  sacred  every  spot  connected 
with  your  sweet  idea." 

"Well,  I  never but  I  see  you  are  not  going  to 

laugh  any  this  evening,  and  I  forbear.  Indeed,  I  know 
not  how  I  came  to  laugh  myself.  You  spoke  of  recollec- 
tions: you  are  gomg  to  leave  these  shores,  I  hear;  and, 
as  absence  is  said  to  impair  them,  I  shall,  probably,  soon 
be  forgotten."  ^ 

"  Has  absence  impaired  yours,  Mary  ?  Has  our  has 
separation  weakened  the  sentiments  of  regard  you  were 
once  pleased  to  say  you  entertained  for  me  ?" 

A  look,  full  of  the  tenderest  meaning,  assured  me  that 
she  had  not.  Never  had  she  shown  so  much  love  before  • 
nev-er  had  there  been  so  little  disguise  imposed  upon  her 
tenderness.  To  all  my  fond  protestations  of  love  and  con- 
stancy she  listened  in  blushing  and  tearful  silence.  She 
was  still  my  own  dear  and  beloved  Mary,  and  I  was  for  a 
moment  happy. 

She  besought  me  not  to  attempt  to  see  her  again,  both 
from  a  regard  to  her  happiness  and  to   the    commoi* 

Vol.  I. — 10 


1  ' 

i 


f 


'i 


■i  ■  :;'' 


110 


HAVERHILL. 


'  ♦■  ■]!■ 


Iff        , 


n':.\' 


'»■ 


r 


i. 


iti 


interests  of  our  future  hopes.   The  difficulties  which  existed 
to  our  meeting  each  other  were  such  as  only  time  and  my 
prudence  and  perseverance  in  an  upright  and  honourable 
course  could  overcome.     She  would  undergo  fewer  re- 
straints and  incur  smaller  risk  of  being  compelled  to  marry 
another,  if  our  attachment  should  remain  unsuspected  till 
such  a  time  as  I  should  be  in  a  condition  to  ask  her  hand. 
If  it  were  once  known  to  her  parents,  she  would,  probably, 
be  sent  out  of  the  country — if  I  remained  in  it;  or  be 
exposed  to  persecutions  and  an. espionage  which  would, 
perhaps,  end  in  our  eternal  separation,  and  at  least  destroy 
her  happiness.    With  a  few  more  sweet  words  of  encour- 
agement, more  interesting  to  me  perhaps  than  they  will 
be  to  the  reader ;  for  the  conversations  of  lovers,  in  their 
moments  of  confidence  and  tenderness,  are  proverbial  for 
their  stupidity ;  and,  therefore,  I  shall  omit  that  which  took 
place  between  me  and  Mary ; — she  held  out  her  hand,  and 
faintly  pronounced  the  adieu.     It  was  not  her  lover's  plea- 
sure to  permit  her  to  depart  so ;  I  demanded  a  kiss,  and  no 
excuse  would  answer.    Blushing,  pouting,  frowning,  but 
still  consenting,  though,  according  to  a  custom  I  have  no 
doubt  as  old  as  Adam,  protesting  that  I  was  "rude," 
"saucy," "naughty,"  &c.  she  permitted  me  to  enfold  her  in 
my  arms  and  take  the  kiss.     Kisses,  prompted  by  fond  and 
deep  affection,  after  long  absences,  and  where  there  is 
ripeness  on  one  side,  and  youth  on  both,  are  proverbial  for 
their  length  and  endurance.     Mine  was  sufficiently  so  to 
permit  a  spectator  of  our  momentary  lapse  from  the  cold 
and  icy  rules  of  propriety  and  decorum  to  steal  unobserved 
upon  us.    When  we  "raised  our  eyes,  her  father  stood  at  a 
little  distance,  looking  at  us  with   perfect  nonchalance. 
He  had  chosen  the  moment  when  our  souls  were  "  lapped 
in  their  elysium"  to  approach  us  unnoticed  ;  and  now  stood 
surveying'  the   scene  with  a   calmness  and  composure 
similar  to  that  which  precedes  the  opening  of  a  broadside 
from  a  ship  of  war.     The  agony  of  Mary  at  the  surprisal 
cannot  be  imagined  ;  and  for  myself,  I  must  confess  that, 
though  constitutionally  the  boldest  of  the  bold,  and  per- 
fectly insensible  to  fear  ;  that,  dear  as  that  kiss  was  to  me, 
and  far  as  I  would  have  gone  to  obtain  it,  unobserved  and 
undetected,  I  would  rather  now  have  missed  the  pleasure 


HAVSRHILL. 


Ill 


than  incurred  the  reproof.  Mary  burst  into  tears,  and 
dropping  at  her  father's  feet,  took  his  hand,  while  she 
said — 

"Indeed,  dearest  papa,  I  am  not  guilty  of  doing  wrong. 
I  came  here  by  accident." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  miserable  and  debased  ingrate— 
unworthy  to  bear  my  name— disgrace  to  my  house  !" 
exclaimed  he,  bursting  at  once  into  a  rage  so  excessive  as 
almost  to  impede  his  utterance.  "  From  you  1  ask  neither 
apology  nor  explanation.  The  reproof  you  deserve  shall 
be  administered  in  private.  Go  to  your  mother,  go- 
instantly— now— before  I  am  tempted  to  do  that  which  I 
may  rue  for  ever.  And  now,  sir"  (turning  to  me),  «  why 
is  it  that  I  find  you  here  ?"  v  &  /»  J- 

I  was  prevented  replying  by  Mary,  who  again  threw 
herself  at  his  feet.  "  Hear  me,  my  dear  father,  my  beloved 
father,  listen  this  once  to  your  own  little  Mary  !  Do  not 
tax  Lynn  Haverhill  with  having  done  any  thing  dishonour- 
able :  do  not  scold  him,  for  he  has  not  deserved  it.  That 
I  am  here  is  not  by  reason  of  his  asking.  I  declare,  my 
dear  father,  in  the  face  of  heaven,  that  we  have  met  here 
this  night  by  accident." 

"  And  was  clasped  in  his  arms  by  accident,  I  suppose ! 
And,  oh  God !  that  I  should  live  to  say  it  of  ray  only  child, 
was  being  kissed—by  accident !  Marv !"— he  appeared 
to  be  at  the  point  of  spurning  her  frqm  him,  when  sud- 
denly there  came  over  him  a  singular  change  of  behaviour, 
a  complete  revulsion  of  feeling.  Gently  patting  her  cheek 
as  though  nothing  had  happened,  he  said  to  her,  in  a  soft, 
soothing  voice,  «  My  daughter,  the  evening  is  chill,  you 
Will  take  cold  ;  retire  to  the  house,  and  we  will  talk  over 
these  things  to-morrow ;  I  will  then  hear  your  explanation, 
which  I  do  not  doubt  will  be  perfectly  satisfactory.  As 
for  Lynn,  I  am  sure  his  story  will  be  open,  sincere,  and 
candid.  Go,  my  love,  and  see  that  you  warm  vour  feet, 
and  see  that  Lydia  warms  your  bed  well.  I  fear  you  have 
taken  cold  already.     Ay,  you  are  a  good  girl.     There. 

And  now  that  the  victim — perhaps,  of  your  duplicity 

the  debased  and  ruined— appearances  warrant  all  that— 
daughter  of  an  ancient  house  has  left  us,  will  you  be  so 
good,  Lynn—but  i  beg  pardon  for  pretermitting  the  cog- 


I 


V 


n 


f 


^i; 


III 


M 

1 

1 

^IIB 

H| 

■ 

ilffMB 

H 

■ 

fH 

ill 

^:M 

m 

11-2 


HAVERHILL. 


,"    1 


1:11 


l,'ii';A 


.M' 


nomen— Mr.— Mr.  Haverhiir  (with  a  sneer),  «  Dick,  or 
the  Devil,  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Haverhill,  why  I 
find  you  here  ?  Why,  sir,  do  I  find  you,  in  the  dark  hour 
of  night,  loitering  about  these  forbidden  grounds  ?" 

I  had  not  as  yet  lost  command  of  my  temper,  withal  I 
remembered  that  he  was  Mary's  father,  and  I  answered 
him  calmly  and  resi)ectfully.  "  It  is  the  spot,  sir,  1  love  to 
look  at,  because  of  the  many  happy  hours  1  have  spent 
here :  and,  seeing  that  I  am  soon  to  leave  my  native  land, 
I  have  come  to  look  at  it  once  more — perhaps  for  the  last 
time." 

"  You  would,  I  half  suspect,  be  impudent  enough  to  tell 
me  that  the  pleasant  recollections  and  the  happy  hours 
refer  to  my  daughter.  Or  perhaps  you  will  find  it  con- 
venient to  deny  the  truth,  as  many  a  doughty  hero,  alias 
a  midnight  vagabond,  has  done  before  you." 

"Young  as  I  am,  sir,"  said  1,  retaining  a  perfect  com- 
mand  of  my  temper,  "  I  have  never  yet  found  myself  con- 
Btrdined  to  lie,  through  fear  of  any  man." 

"  Nobly  said,  i'faith.  If  saymg  were  the  whole  business 
1  should  think  you— the  Chevalier  Bayard." 

"No  question  can  be  asked  me  which  I  will  hesitate 
longer  to  answer  than  to  bring  my  memory  to  know  \U 
task  and  my  eyes  to  see  the  questioner." 

"  A  brave  lad  !  you  ought  to  have  been  at  least  drum- 
mer to  Captain  Bobadil  or  Ancient  Pistol.  A  most  mag- 
nanimous youth  to  be  the  son  of  a  taker  of  cod  !  But  how 
can  less  be  expected,  when  the  cursed  doctrines  of  equality 
now  preached  up — ay,  and  practised  too — bid  fair  to  push 
from  his  stool  every  man  who  has  above  twenty  pounds 
a-year  and  a  change  of  linen.  1  did  not  know  that  we 
had  a  Paladin  on  our  shores  in  the  disguise  of  a  taker  of 
cod.  If  1  do  not  in  future  suspect  a  'thief  in  each  bush,' 
I  am  sure  I  shall  a  hero  under  each  fisherman's  apron,  a 
consul's  galley  in  each  chebaque-boat." 

I  had  remained  calm  under  all  the  insults  he  had  heaped 
upon  me,  but  my  blood  refused  to  be  quiet  any  longer;  I 
could  not  resist  my  inclination  to  eke  out  his  speech  by 
recalling  to  his  mind  a  known  trail  of  his  character, — "  and 
be  sure  to  heap  insults  upon  those  who  dare  not  avenge 
them." 


Arhole  business 


HAVERHILL.  113 

jHe  raised  his  cane  to  strike  me. 
"  Do  not,  I  beseech  you  do  not.     I  will  bear  all  your 
taunts  patiently,  but  you  must  not  strike  me." 

"  I  will  beat  you  as  I  would  any  other  snake  I"  and  the 
cane  seemed  in  the  act  of  descending  upon  me. 

"  Do  it,  then  ;  but  at  your  peril.     1  repeat  that  I  will 
hear  your  taunts  unmoved  for  the  sake  of  your  daughterj 

but  strike  me,  and  I  forget  herj—your  age,~honours, 

everything—but  to  take  instant  satisfaction  for  the  sham« 
you  will  have  done  me." 

He  let  his  cane  drop,  and  coolly  demanded.  "  Have  you 
the  impudence  to  look  at  my  daughter  with  eyes  of  love  ?" 

"  Heavier  crimes  than  to  love  above  one's  degree  havg 
been  called  by  a  softer  name  than  impudence." 

"  And  lighter  rewarded  with  a  heavier  punishment  than, 
in  the  distracted  state  of  thisd— -d  country,  and  the  relaxed 
condition  of  her  courts  of  justice,  will,  1  fear,  be  youra, 
But  to  the  point,  do  you  love  my  daughter  ?" 

"  I  do ;  better  than  the  blood  that  warms  my  heart." 

"  Do  you  know  who  you  are  ?" 

"  I  do.     I  am  the  son  of  a  fisherman." 

"Very  poor?" 

"  Very  poor !" 

"  Very  humble  ?" 

"Very  humble  I" 

"Very  ignorant?" 

"Very  ignorant !  But  who,  poor,  humble,  and  ignorant 
as  he  IS,  is  a  very  honest,  peaceable,  and  moral  man,  who 
fears  God  and  loves  mercy.  My  father,  sir,  has  a  wif* 
and  nine  children;  he  has  fed,  clothed,  and  supported 
theai  to  the  present  hour,  without  begging  or  borrowing 
a  penny  of  a  human  being,  or  defrauding  living  man  of  the 
value  of  a  hazel-nut." 

"  So  far  your  pretensions  are  stated  with  truth,  and  with 
due  humility.  Your  father  is  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  and 
the  humblest  of  the  humble,  but  he  is  moral  and  honest. 
Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?" 

"  You  may  not  like  to  be  told." 

"  You  can  say  nothing  to  wound  me,  therefore  I  wish 
you  to  tell  me  what  and  who  I  am,  and  let  your  opinion 
be  neither  more»eor  less  than  the  echo  of  the  world's." 

10* 


;i 


li't 


V     / 


rl 


m 


1 14  HAVERHILL. 

"  If  I  make  my  report  so  full  I  shall  be  sure  to  ofil^d 

you."  Ill 

"  Severe  enough,  in  all  conscience.     But  speak  plainly, 

and  I  will  thank  you  for  your  candour." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you.     The  world  says  you  are  a  proud 
and  iron-hearted  man,  possessed  of  great  tulents  and  large 
wealth,  the  first  chiefly  exerted  to  augment  the  last,  the 
last  used  but  to  grind  to  the  dust  the  humble  poor." 
"Insolent  boy  !"  ^ 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  not  insolent,  but  ♦  tread  upon  a  worm,— 
you  know  the  maxim.  Besides,  you  desired  me  to  tell  you 
what  the  world  said  of  you." 
"  I  did.  Is  this  my  character?" 
"  It  is,  sir,  far  and  near,  from  one  end  of  the  province  to 
the  other,  and  by  all,  from  the  humblest  labourer  that 
works  in  your  fields  to  your  fiivourite  groom,  Will 
Thurston."  . 

"  You  are  a  bold,  and  some  would  say  insolent  youth ; 
but  I  invited  the  discussion,  and  must  abide  the  conse- 
quences of  my  condescension." 

"At  your  request  I  have  told  you  the  truth, — an 
unpalatable  truth,  perhaps,— but  still  the  truth." 

"  You  have  said  that  men  call  me  a  proud  and  iron- 
hearted  man,  arbitrary,  and  a  hard  master." 

"I  have;  but  1  must  for  the  third  time  repeat  it  was 
not  till  you  had  requested  ine  to  tell  you  what  the  world 

said  of  you." 

"When  you  was  a  labourer  in  my  fields  did  you 
find  cause  to  blame  me?     Did  you  think  me  a  hard 

master  ?"  ,  ,  i 

"  No,  I  did  not,  thanks  to  these  hands  that  were  able  to 
do,  and  did  do  the  work  of  two,  rather  than  your  generosity 
and  care  of  my  welfare."  And  I  held  up  a  pair  of  hands 
which  cold  winds,  and  salt  water,  and  hard  knocks,  and 
the  handling  of  the  oar,  and  the  axe,  and  the  mattock,  and 
the  cod-line  had  rendered  as  hard  and  as  brown  as  the 
hide  of  a  buffalo.  "  If  there  was  a  command  coi.vcyed 
to  the  overseer  to  spare  Lynn  Haverhill,  he  heard  it 

not."  „ 

"  You  were  indeed  a  noble  fellow— in  the  field,"  said 
he,  softening,  ^"  tfiere,  I  think,  I  never    iw  your  equal. 


'  '  I 


HAVERHILL. 


H5 


And  but  for  your  presumption  in  aspiring  to  my  daugliter, 

you  siiould — " 

"  Lend  your  gang  of  reapers,  or  mowers,  or  follow  your 
plough." 

"  Ay  !  should  you." 

"  Or  drive  your  market-wagon  at  a  shilling  a  day,  and 
be  taught  to  whistle  a  teamster**  gamut  into  the  bargain." 

"  1  would  do  a  great  deal  for  you." 

"  1  don't  doubt  it — in  a  certain  way, — and  be  careful  to 
see  yourself  in  receipt  of  a  crown  piece  for  every  four  and 
six-pence  disbursed.  1  thank  you,  sir, — if  you  mean  me 
well,  from  my  soul  I  thank  you,  but  1  look  for  higher 
employments  and  nobler  rewards." 

"  You  mean  then  to  quit  your  present  course  of  life  ?**. 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  For  what  other  pursuit  ?" 

"  The  army  or  the  navy — the  former  of  choice.  But 
to  please  my  kind  parents,  I  have  consented  to  go  one 
merchant-voyage  first." 

"Insolent  and  impudent — no,  I  will  do  you  justice,  you 
are  not,  never  have  been  either— I  gave  you  great  provo- 
cations— that  attempt  to  .strike  you  was  unmanly :  am- 
bitious, madly  ambitions  as  you  are,  Lynn  Haverhill,  and 
much  as  that  ambition  thwarts  all  my  plans  and  hopes  for 
the  settlement  of  my  child,  I  take,  believe  me,  a  deep 
interest  in  your  fnte,  and  should  be  very  sorry  to  hear  ihat 
you  had  done  otherwise  than  well  in  the  journey  of  life. 
Besides,  it  is  pleasant  though  mournful  to  us  whose  shadow 
is  sinking  on  the  dial,  and  who  are  practically  acquainted 
with  the  delusive  nature  of  human  joys,  to  listen  to  the 
views  and  hopes  of  a  warm-hearted  and  resolute  youth 
about  to  embark  on  the  tempestuous  ocean  of  life,  fearing 
neither  rock  nor  quicksand,  anticipating  nothing  but  fair 
winds  and  pleasant  skies,  expecting  noitlier  cross  nor 
enemy.  Vain  hopes !  poor  boy !  How  small  your 
chance,  friendless  as  you  are,  of  succeeding  in  your  object. 
It  is  like  the  attempt  of  a  young  eagle  to  soar  whose 
wings  are  broken." 

"  Report  says  that  your  ancestor  in  the  third  remove 
from  your  father  was  that  eagle,  yet  made  good  his  soaring. 


If 


^-'vw.- 


7J^1 


116 


HAVERHILL. 


il 


I  mean  no  disrespect  to  you,  sir,  but  I  have  heard  it  said, 
and  never  disputed,  that  he  was  st«ble-boy  to  the  Earl  of 
Northumberhind.  Yet  he  became  a  nobleman,  a  great 
one,  and  lived  respected  and  died  regretted  by  half  a  na- 
tion. Men  forgot,  in  the  nobleness  of  his  mind,  the  dignity 
of  his  manner,  and  the  excellence  of  his  heart,  that  he  was 
found  rolled  up  in  a  woollen  rug  on  the  king's  highway. 
He  did  not  find  it  difficult  to  conquer  the  impediments  to 
fame  and  fortune." 

"  Report  says  true,"  remarked  he,  thoughtfully.  "  But 
those  were  times  when  wise  heads,  stout  hearts,  and  strong 
arms  were  in  great  request.  It  was  the  era  of  the  recovery 
of  England's  rights  from  the  grasp  of  the  Stuarts.  The 
first  Lord  Danvers  excelled  most  men  of  his  day  in  wisdom, 
strength,  and  intrepidity.  Ay,  they  were  stirring  times 
when  he  gained  his  dizzy  altitude." 

"  And  what,  sir,  are  these  in  which  we  live?" 

"  As  far  as  regards  the  colonies,  calm  and  tranquil.  We, 
in  these  distant  regions,  may  send  our  swords  to  the  tower- 
armoury  for  safe  keeping,  and  go  to  sleep  with  a  willow- 
twig  for  a  door-latch." 

*'  Still  may  the  pllace  be  found  where  a  name — or  a  grave 
may  be  had  for  the  asking.  1  have  but  to  cross  an  ocean 
to  stand  among  hundreds  of  thousands  of  embattled  war- 
riors. The  great  Prince  Ferdinand  and  the  greater  King 
Frederic  are  just  the  men  to  reward  those  who  will  dare 
what  I  will  dare  to  raise  myself  from  the  situation  which 
alone  has  led  to  the  abuse  and  epithets  which  Judge  Dan- 
vers has  this  night  heaped  upon  me." 

"  Pshaw  !  you  take  my ^jokes   too  seriously,"  said 

he,  much  softened.  "And  yet  they  were  rough  jokes. 
Alas  for  your  hopes,  my  poor  boy,  if  they  are  founded 
upon  Frederic  or  Ferdinand.  The  theatre  of  European 
war  is  a  very  long  way  off,  and  money — " 

"  Would  be  wanted,  true — that  crushes  my  hope." 

"  I  will  ft^rnish  it — if  that  be  all  that  is  wanted." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  but  1  would  not  accept  it  from  you  to 
save  my  life." 

"  I  suppose  not.     You  are  a  proud  boy." 

"  Other  regions  besides  Europe  hold  out  prospects  of 
war.     Canada," 


«i> 


HAVERHILL. 


U7 


•«  The  war  is  finished  there." 

«'  It  is  not  thought  so  by  some.  In  my  opinion,  the 
opinion  of  a  boy,  however,  the  next  campaign  will  be  both 
brilliant  and  bloody.  Letting  that  alone,  do  you  not  be- 
lieve, sir,  in  the  existence  of  a  revolutionary  spirit  in  our 
own  country  ?  Can  you  not  discover  the  throes  of  the  whirl- 
wind, which  at  first  merely  scatters  the  leaves,  but  in  a 
few  minutes  rends  the  tree  that  bore  ihem." 

"  There  are,  undoubtedly,  troubles  in  embryo,"  said  he. 
"I  have  always  maintained,  and  have  done  my  best  to 
make  the  ministry  believe,  that  there  is  a  latent  disposilion 
in  the  people  of  these  colonies  to  throw  off'  the  rule  of 
Great  Britain.  But  what  will  avail  that  disposition  against 
the  fleets  and  forces  which  will  be  sent  out  from  Eng- 
land, backed  by  the  powerful  party  in  this  country,  who 
will  prefer  that  the  colonies  should  remain  colonies  rather 
than  become  independent  statet!  ?  And  besides,  the  king 
will  do  us  justice,  who  then  will  vv  ish  independence  ?" 

"  Hancock,  the  Adamses,  the  Lees — I  could  swell  the 
list  to  thousands.  Young  as  I  am,  I  can  see  that  when 
the  time  arrives  every  pretext  will  be  used  to  raise  the 
standard  of  rebellion." 

"  It  is,  I  happen  to  know,  now  in  contemplation  to  tax 
these  colonies  towards  the  burthens  which  the  mother- 
country  has  incurred  by  her  expensive  German  wars." 

"  And  that  measure,  sir,  will  allow  of  our  raising  an 
outcry,  whether  we  are  hurt  or  merely  scared.  Let  Great 
Britain  raise  the  cry  of  taxation,  and  mark  how  long  it  will 
reverberate.  It  will  be  made  an  alarm-bell,  upon  which 
will  be  rung  ten  thousand  changes  — 'Oppression,' 'Magna 
Charta,'  *  King  John,' '  no  taxation,'  &c.  &c." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  will  be  the  consequence  of  an 
attempt  to  tax  these  colonies,  without  allowing  them  to 
be  represented  in  the  body  from  whom  the  measure 
emanates  ?" 

"War,  bloody  war.  We  are  descended  from  the  heroes 
who  achieved  the  great  revolution;  we  possess  tue  ardent 
love  of  liberty,  hatred  of  oppression,  and  fear  of  being  en- 
slaved, which  are  born  with  every  Englishman.  Withal,  we 
are  a  very  avaricious  people,  and  shall  be  apt  to  consider 
every  measure  which  has  a  tendency  to  abstract  money 


118 


HAVERHILL. 


!•:  . 


from  our  pockets  as  one  aimed  at  our  personal  liber- 
ties." 

He  remained  for  the  space  of  a  minute  in  deep  silence, 
then  turning  round  suddenly,  and  grasping  my  hand  with 
a  fervent  pressure,  he  said,  "  You  are  a  wonderful — very 
wonderful  boy,  and  must  have  been  intended  by  the  God 
of  nature  for  something  far  better  than  your  present  con- 
dition promises.  Your  knowledge — how  acquired  Heaven 
only  knows — your  singular  copiousness  and  correctness 
of  language,  speak  a  mind  of  the  rarest  endowment. 
Your  sentiments,  your  very  step,  are  those  of  high  aristo. 
cratic  birth.     How  did  you  get  your  learning  ?" 

"  From  your  daughter,  sir." 

"  My  daughter !  If  she  has  been  your  teacher,  the  evil 
I  feared  is  indeed  deep-seated.  Lynn  Haverhill,  listen  to 
me  attentively.  I  mean  it  not  as  a  mere  compliment  when 
I  say  that  you  are  a  youth  whom  the  greatest  man  in  the 
realm  of  England  might  be  proud  to  call  son.  1  have  had 
my  eye  upon  you  for  years — ay,  ever  since  you  was  ten. 
I  have  seen  you  the  prop  of  your  father's  house,  honest, 
industrious,  prudent,  faithful.  I  was  not,  to  be  sure,  pre- 
pared for  the  learning,  spirit,  and  eloquence  you  have  this 
night  displayed,  but  still  I  have  long  known  you  had  a 
superior  mind.  I  have  always  done  justice  to  the  vigour 
of  your  mind  and  the  goodness  of  your  heart.  But  you 
cannot  marry  my  daughter.  She  was  betrothed  before 
.  she  was  born  to  her  cousin,  Charles  Danvers.  Upon 
their  union  depends  almost  the  existence  of  our  house.  If 
the  marriage  do  not  take  place,  an  estate,  worth  three 
thousand  a  year,  goes  to  our  greatest  enemy — to  one  whose 
cursed  arts  wrought  the  ruin  of  a  beloved  and  lovely  sister, 
whose  hands  were  dyed  in  the  blood  of  a  brother,  yet  who 
lives  to  taunt  us  with  his  victories  over  our  house." 

"  It  seems  then  to  be  a  match  made  up  of  interest  and 
revenge,"  said  I.  *'  But  do  you  think,  sir,  there  would  be 
greater  guilt  in  shooting  this  seducer  and  murderer  through 
the  heart  in  broad  daylight,  or  stabbing  him  in  a  dark 
night,  than  there  would  be  in  sacrificing  your  daughter  in 
marriage  with  a  man  she  does  not  love  T" 

"  How  do  you  know  she  does  not  love  her  cousin 
Charles?" 


HAVISIIILL. 


119 


ersonal  Iiber< 


"  Aik  her,  sir.'* 

"  I  will." 

••  But  do  it  with  a  smilintf  brow.  Tell  her  you  leave 
her  the  freedom  of  choice,  tUl  her  that  you  will  accept  for 
gon-in-law  the  man  she  prefers,  and  see  if  she  name  Charles 
Danvers." 

"  She  would  name  you,  perhaps ;  I  think  you  mean  as 
much."  - 

"  I  think  she  would." 

"  I  would  not  accuse  you  unjustly,"  said  he,  after  a  mo- 
mint's  silence ;  "  yet  I  think  I  see  in  you,  Lynn  Haverhill, 
a  crafty  youth,  bent  upon  making  an  ambitious  match — 
bent  upon  marrying  above  his  condition.  Displeased  as  I 
must  very  naturally  be  with  your  presumption — call  it  af- 
fection for  my  daughter, — and  the  impediments  it  offers  to 
the  prosecution  of  a  favourite  plan,  I  will  give  you  proof 
of  the  estimation  in  which  your  talents  and  a  nameless 
something  compel  me  to  hold  you.  I  will  tell  you  the  rea- 
son why  you  cannot  marry  my  daughter.  When  you  have 
heard  it,  if  you  are  the  honourable  youth  I  have  always 
thought  you,  and  hope  to  find  you,  you  will  quit  the  hold 
it  seems  you  have  acquired  upon  her  affections,  and  leave 
her  at  liberty  to  enter  into  the  views  of  her  father.  The 
story  is  a  long  one  ;  and  as  the  air  is  getting  cool,  and  the 
hour  growing  late,  I  will  not  require  of  you  to  listen  to  it 
now.  If  you  will  do  me  the  favour  to  meet  me  to-morrow 
morning  at  eleven,  at  the  Indian  Graves,  you  shall  hear  it. 
At  all  events,  your  time  will  not  be  thrown  away,  for  it  is 
worth  hearing,  I  assure  you." 


fh 


7G  her  cousin 


HAPTER  XVI. 


He  was  punctual  to  his  appointment,  and  commenced 
the  promised  piece  of  family  history  as  follows : — 

"  My  father  was  born  in  Wales,  the  maiden  name  of  my 
mother  was  Luttrell.  Her  father,  a  respectable  physician 
in  London,  died  at  an  early  age,  leaving  three  orphans,  a 


120 


HAVERHILL. 


son  and  two  daughters,  dependent  on  the  affection  of  a 
maiden  aunt.     They  were  supported  and  educated  by 
her,  the  daughters,  till  their  marriage ;  the  eldest  with  my 
father,  the  youngest  with  a  Bedfordshire  gentleman  by  ihe 
name  of  Temple ;  and  the  son,  till  his  departure  fromEng. 
land  in  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company.    My  uncle 
was  a  resolute  and  determined  lad,  and  gained  a  speedy 
promotion.     After  an  ab,'5ence  of  nearly  twenty  years,  he 
returned  General  liUttrell,  with  a  decent  fortune — quite 
enough  for  one  who  disliked  the  gay  bustle  and  parade  of 
the  metropolis,  and  wanted  ♦  rest  and  a  harbour.'    My 
ntiother,  previous  to  his  departure,  had  been  his  favourite 
sister ;  she  was  now  a  widow,  and  he  came,  immediately 
on  his  landing,  to  our  house.     Having  contracted  a  great 
aversion  to  marriage,  from  having  seen  a  great  deal  of 
matrimonial  squabbhng  in  the  family  of  his  tutor,  after- 
ward in  that  of  his  sister  Temple,  and  otherwise  witnessed 
much  connubial  strife,  he  sat  dov^'    at  Danvers-Park,  pur- 
chased  the  adjoining  estate  of  Baigholdt,  and  became  as  | 
much  one  of  the  family  as  any  individual  in  it.    He  avowed 
his  intention  of  bestowing  his  wealth  upon  my  brother  and 
myself;  and  was  at  his  own  proper  charge  of  educating 
us ;  directing,  by  my  mother's  consent,  the  course  of  our 
studies,  nominating  the  branches  and  appointing  the  tutors. 
Occasionally  he  visited  the  *  house  of  strife,'  as  he  called 
Templeton ;  but  his  visits  were  few  and  far  between,  and 
withal  of  very  short  duration.     Neither  there,  nor  any 
where  else,  did  he  make  any  secret  of  his  intended  dispo- 
sition of  his  property ;  but  openly  prepared  his  last  will 
and  testament,  in  which  the  estate  of  Bargholdt,  worth 
three  thousand  a  year,  was  given  to  my  brother  and  my- 
self jointly  in  fee.     My  sister  was  provided  with  a  decent 
marriage-portion  ;  and  there  were  some  trifling  bequests  of 
personal  property  to  my  cousins  of  the  •  house  of  strife.' 
We  were  named  '  residuary  legatees,*  a  term  which,  for 
the  benefit  of  those  who  may  not  know  what  it  means,  I 
translate,  'They  are  to  have  every  thing  which  I  have  not 
specially  given  away  in  this  will.' 

'•  My  brother  and  myself  were  married  yoimg,  to  women 
in  the  choice  of  whom  our  own  inclinations  and  those  of 
our  mother  and  uncle  were  united.  But  we  were  doomed, 
for  many  year^,  to  disappointment  of  the  fondest  hopes 


HAVERHILL.  121 

which  follow  the  possession  of  the  object  of  our  affection 
—neither  of  our  wives  had  any  children.  Regard  for  the 
feelings  of  our  companions  forbade  our  showing  the  regret 
we  felt  at  a  circumstance  always  painful  to  a  husband  • 
but  our  uncle,  who  had  none  of  this  delicacy,  made  no 
scruple  of  expressing  his  dissatisfaction. 

"I  had  been  seven,  and  my  brother  six  years  a  husband, 
when  our  good  uncle,  who  had  been  to  us  more  than  a 
father,  showed  symptoms  of  a  decline.    When  he  returned 
from  India,  ho  brought  with  him,  implanted  in  his  consti- 
tution,  but  kept  under  by  his  habits  of  temperance,  a  dis- 
ease, whicii  attacks  more  or  less,  I  believe,  every  person 
who  visits  India.     And  now,  though  he  had  lived  twelve 
years  in  Eni>].md,  a  great  part  of  the  time  in  the  enioy- 
ment  of  tolerable  health,  and  never  very  ill,  he  was  evi- 
dently hastening  to  the  grave  from  the  operation  of  that 
latent  cause.     In  this  low  state  of  body,  and  with  attendant 
wea.aiess  of  mind,  he  became  dispii-ited,  because  he  had 
not  shown  as  much  affection  for  my  aunt  Temple  as  he  had 
done  for  my  mother.     He  wished  to  revisit  Templeton 
once  more,  that  he  might  make  some  atonement  for  the 
supposed  wrong  he  had  committed  in  withholding  from  one 
sister  her  moiety  of  his  love  and  tenderness.     Seeino-  that 
his  heart  was  set  upon  repairing  his  supposed  injustice,  we 
consented,  notwithstanding  his  extreme  weakness,  that  he 
should  go ;  but  he  effectually  resisted  our  earnest  entrea- 
ties that  either  ir.y  brother  or  myself  should  bear  him  com- 
pany.    He  set  out,  attended  by  two  of  his  own  servants, 
brant,  a  Cheshire  man,  an  honest  and  oxccllcnt,  but  very 
simple  fellow,  and  Ritchings,  from  Sussex,  one  of  the  most 
thorough-paced  villains  that  ever  lived.     We  had  often 
persuaded  our  uncle  to  turn  this  last  away,  but  he  had  been 
W'th  him  for  many  years  in  the  East,  had  once  saved  him 
from  the  fangs  of  a  tiger  in  a  Bengal  jungle,  and  he  would 
not  listen  to  us. 

"  He  wrote  us,  on  the  fourth  day  after  he  left,  informinr- 
us  of  his  safe  arrival  at  Templeton.  Soon  after  a  lette? 
came  from  our  uncle  Temple,  stating  that  his  disease  had 
taken  an  unfavourable  turn ;  three  days  after  we  were 
informed  of  his  increasing  illness,  and  in  less  than  two 
weeks,  of  his  death.  We  do  not,  never  did  believe,  that  any 

V  OL.    Xt—-H 


i 


.IL. 


122 


HAVERHILL. 


improper  means  were  used  to  hasten  his  departure,  but  the 
suspicion  struckus  immediately, and  forcibly,that  an  attempt 
would  be  made  to  nullify  the  will  he  had  executed  in  our 
favour,  by  exhibiting  one  of  a  later  date.  Our  suspicion 
proved  correct.  When  the  testament  by  which  he  had  be- 
queathed his  estate  to  the  two  sons  of  his  sister  was  deposited 
with  the  officeib  legally  empowered  to  take  cognizance  of 
such  matters,  we  were  told  that  the  seals  of  the  Prero- 
gative  Court  had  been  affixed  to  a  similar  instrument, 
purporting  to  be  of  a  later  date,  and  containing  quite  a 
different  disposition  of  his  property.  A  different  disposition 
indeed ! 

"  By  this  latter  will  the  estate  of  Bargholdt  was  left  to 
John  Temple,  the  eldest  son  of  Edward  Temple,  Esq.  of 
Templet  on,  Bedfordshire,  and  his  heirs  in  tail-general,  as  it 
is  called,  defeasible  only  upon  the  happening  of  the  follow- 
ing contingencies  :  '  To  wit,  that  in  case  Jane,  the  present 
wife  of  the  present  Robert  Danvers,  of  Danvers-Park,  Sur- 
rey, should  bear  a  son  to  her  present  husband,  and  that 
Sarah,  the  present  wife  of  Temple  Danvers,  also  of  Dan- 
vers-Park, in  the  last-mentioned  county,  should  bear  a 
daughter  to  her  present  husband,  and  that  the  son  so  born  to 
Robert  Danvers  should  intermarry  with  the  daughter  so 
born  to  Temple  Danvers,  and  have  issue,  born  within  wed- 
lock, and  alive,  that  then  the  said  estate  of  Bargholdt  should 
go  from  John  Temple,  or  whoever  might  claim  and  hold 
through,  from,  or  under  him,  to  the  said  son  of  Robert  Dan- 
vers, and  the  said  daughter  of  Temple  Danvers,  so  inter- 
marrying and  to  the  issue  so  born,  or  afterward  born  of  their 
bodies.'  It  was  an  instrument  evidently  dictated,  I  should 
say  made,  by  the  Temples,  though  signed  by  my  uncle,  and 
such  every  unprejudiced  person  pronounced  it. 

"  Not  doubting  for  a  moment  that  improper  means  had 
been  used  to  procure  this  will,  we  set  about  taking  mea- 
sures  to  defeat  it.  Our  first  object  was; to  ascertain  in 
what  state  of  mind  the  testator  died  ;  and  this  could  only 
be  done  by  examining  the  servants  who  had  accompanied 
him  to  Templeton.  Neither  of  them  returned  to  our 
house  upon  his  death,  and  it  was  only  after  a  search  in 
which  we  were  baffled  for  months,  that  we  succeeded  in 
finding  one  of  them.    By  the  merest  accident  we  heard  of  a 


1  '■- 


HAVERHILL. 


133 


ov«nn  answerina  to  the  description  of  Grant,  employed 
fn  aTn-m  ne?C^^^^  to  the  father-m-law  of 

my  unclTTemple.    By  adroit  management  we  succeeded 

^"  ^Srjriold  by  Grant  tallied  exactly  with  our  suspi- 
rions  He  stated  that  General  Luttrell  grew  more  and 
Ire^ll  every  day  after  his  arrival  at  Templeton,  and  soon 
peuneqTvLal'signs^ 

Lpeared  perfectly  lucid  after  the  first  week  of  his  les^ 
dence  at  the  Hall,  and  at  times  was  totaWy  ^«t.     Grant 
said  he  soon  saw  that  exertions  were  making  by  the  1  em 
S  s  to  induce  him  to  change  the  disposition  of  h.s  propeny. 
^rhe  general  frequently  spolce  to  him  m  his  more  lucid  mo 
menti  of  the  attempts  which  were  being  made  ^J.^^^^ 
Zv  and  her  family  upon  his  property,  and  talked  f^^^^^ 
santly  while  labouring  under  his  ^elancholv  fits  of  dd.num 
Xaysdeclaring  his  determinationnot  to  alter  the  fi^^^^^^^ 
hut  to  '  leave  his  property  to  those  who  deserved  it.     h  our 
or  five  days  befo?e  his  death,  Grant  was  sent  upon  some 
^'re'e't  oTother  a  considerable  -tance  urto  the  countiy, 
and  Ritchings,  the  other  man,  supplied  his  place.     When 
Grant  returned  to  the  chamber  of  his  master,  he  found  h  m 
more  than  usually  delirious.    He  raved  most  incoherently 
Tmaue^s  and  tLgs  jn  g-eral ;  but  that  which  see^^^^^ 
to  nress  on  his  mind  the  strongest,  and  to  excite  the  mosi 
paiSl  reg^^^^^^^         a  new  wilfhe  had  signed  whereby  he 
had  'defrauded  the  poor  boys  of  their  rights.     Still,   he 
said  'he  had  left  them  a  chance  by  which  they  might  escape 
and  heCedthev  would-would  be  able  to  meet  the  devil 
and  ovSe  hhn-he  had  battled  manfully  he  had-he 
;lldnrmalethewillassom^ 

^.^anted  him  to  make  it-but.  to  make  ^^  -^y^^f^^^^^^^^ 
signed  what  was  neither  here  nor  there-which  lett  ms  ru 

pies  to  neither  this  one  nor  that  «"^- , /J^f,  "JL^^^^ 
was  speechless,  and  so  continued  until  the  hour  ot  his  death, 
which  took  place  on  the  third  day. 

"  During  L  whole  period  of  his  master's  •""ess  »nd 
aftefh  death,  the  family  at  Templeton  were  ami.  of 
Tfts  ind  attentions,  both  upon  hunself  and  Ritchings. 
f  mmedlate^upon  the  deceasi  of  the  general  he  would  have 


1«:' 


124 


Haverhill. 


» .V 


?  :h  . 


'I, ' 


m 


i' :  % 


■■«  finding  such  friends  coninlrf    "aT  """^''^"^  '''"■'""«« 

latter  will  we  commlS™''  '"'.'»<^='Pa<='ty  to  make  the 

cause  was SCto  use  the'S't  '"^S""""?-  The 
appearing  to  conte^t^rvaM  .T„fteir,oH  ?  P"""^ 
the  recognTsances  or  bondf  h""?.'  f^'^  '  ^"  ^^^  ^^^^^ited 


HAV£UMILL. 


12:- 


"  The  defendant  produced  a  host  of  witnesses,  his  own 
menials  and  dependants,  who  swore  that  at  the  time  the 
testator  made  the  will  under  which  John  Temple  claimed 
the  estate  of  Bargholdt,  he  was  of  sound  and  perfect  mind 
and  memory — in  other  words,  swore  just  what  their  master 
bade  them.     Among  these  appeared  the  villain  Ritchings, 
whose  testimony,  from  his  having  been  much  about  the 
person  of  the  deceased  for  tlie  ten  days  previous  to  his 
death,  principally  guided  the  court  to  the  opinion  and  judg- 
ment they  gave.     He  swore  positively  to  the  fact  of  the 
testator's  mental  soundness,  and  related  a  great  maiiy  inci- 
dents which  went  to  prove  him  in  his  right  mind.     He  told 
his  story  with  so  much  simplicity,  straight-forwardness,  and 
a^rreement  of  One  part  with  another,  that  we  were  almost 
compelled  to  yield  credence  to  it  ourselves,  knowing  as 
we  did  his  unrivalled  talent  for  concealing  his  depravity 
and  wickedness  under  a  smile  which  should  appear  to  be 
that  of  sincerity  and  candour.     There  was  probably  not  a 
person  in  the  court  who  distrusted  his  evidence,  except 
those  who  believed  him  to  be  peijured,  ourselves,  and 
those  who  knew  him  to  be  so,  the  defendants.     The  will 
was  established,  and  the  triumph  of  the  Temple  family 
was  complete.     They  took  immediate  possession  of  the 
Bargholdt  estate,  an  event  we  deprecated  the  more,  as 
they  thereby  became  our  nearest  neighbours. 

"A  quarrel  in  the  servants'  hall  at  Bargholdt  led  to  dis- 
closures which  would  enable  us  to  prove  the  perjury  of 
the  villain  Ritchings.  We  took  measures  for  doing  so, 
but  took  them  with  so  little  secrecy  that  he  escaped  our 
grasp.  He  .went  off,  it  was  said,  vowing  vengeance 
against  us,  and  was  traced  as  far  as  Portsmouth,  where  he 
embarked  in  a  brigantine  bound  to  Nova  Scotia.  He  has 
never  been  heard  of,  at  least  by  us,  since. 

"  We  continued  for  some  months  to  have  no  sort  of 
intercourse  with  our  neighbour,  the  proprietor  of  Barg- 
holdt. We  could  not  say,  however,  that  he  did  not  bear 
his  blushing  honours  meekly.  He  asF:umed  no  state, 
affected  no  consequence,  appeared  at  church  and  upon 
all  public  occasions  very  meanly  attired  and  attended,  and 
by  his  easy  and  gentlemanly  behaviour,  his  extreme  affa- 
bility and  kindness,  so  won  upon  the  good  will  of  those 

11* 


* 


it 


136 


nAVERHILL. 


\i 


whom  he  visited,  or  with  whom  he  had  dealings,  that  he 
became  the  •  hon'  of  the  neighbourhood.  Of  all  men 
living,  he  perhaps  most  excelled  in  veiling  his  vices  and 
loibles.  No  man  could,  more  effectually  for  his  purposes 
put  on  a  show  of  goodness  or  assume  a  thicker  mantle  of 
hypocrisy.  * 

»  Having  established  himself  in  the  good  graces  of  the 
people  of  the  neighbourhood,  his  next  aim  was  to  be  ad- 
mitted  into  our  house  upon  terms  of  friendship.  He  came 
to  the  door,  we  could  not  refuse  to  open  it  to  him.  Our 
good  mother  listened  to  his  protestations  of  compunction 
and  repentance-protestations  made  with  tears,  believed 
him  smcere,  and  succeeded  in  pacifying  her  song  His 
first  reception  was  very  different  from  what  he  must  have 
expected ;  and  though  my  mother  was  the  only  one  who 
gave  implicit  credence  to  his  slory,yet  we  so  far  forgot  the 
leud,  so  facfound  palliatives  for  his  conduct,  that  we  invited 

todo  sJ^'''''^  *^^  ^'''**    ^^''^'  ^^  ^"""""^  ^^^^^  inducements 

iul\T^  '''' r  ''"'^.  "^T  '^'*^^'  ^"^  ^^^'  ^t  this  time,  was  in 
the  bloom  of  youth  the  pride  and  delight  of  ouHiouse 
My  daughter  resembles  her  very  much :  but  Mary,  beau- 
titul  as  she  is,  cannot  be  compared  for  either  chaims  of 
person  or  graces  of  manner  with  my  lost  sister,  though 
perhaps  her  superior  m  mental  endowments.  And  then 
her  sweet  and  cheerful  disposition,  her  playful  and  innocent' 

wi!  i.^"^^*^-  ''"'^  ''""'^^  '^°w  much  we  loved  her 
Whether  playing  upon  the  lawn  with  her  pet  lamb,  or 
touching  the  strings  of  the  harp,  or  plying  her  httle  feet  in 
the  dance,  or  teasing  her  fond  and  delighted  brothers  with 
the  hundred  whimsies  and  caprices  which  haunt  the  bosom 
of  a  belle  and  a  beauty,  an  only  daughter,  a  petted  sister, 
an  e  uar  ''''''  irresistible  and  without 

"  To  this  beloved  girl  Temple  paid  assiduous  court ;  and 
being  one  of  the  handsomest  men  I  ever  saw,  and  verv 
accomplished,  soon  succeeded  in  winning  her  affections 
It  was  not  pleasmg  to  either  my  brother  or  myself  to 
witness  tins  attachment ;  we  distrusted  his  pretended  re- 
pemance  of  the  particular  injury  he  had  doAe  us,  as  well 
as  his  reformation  from  his  general  libertinism.    But  he 


MAVKRHILL. 


127 


had  completely  won  over  our  mother  to  his  interest,  and 
through  her  influence,  and  the  fond  entreaties  of  our  love- 
sick sister,  we  were  induced  to  withdraw  our  opposition. 
Besides,  in  the  way  of  interest,  nothing  could  be  better 
than  this  match.  It  would  bring  the  fine  estate  of  Barg- 
holdt  into  the  family,  and  seat  our  sister  for  life  within 
two  miles  of  the  place  of  her  birth,  and  the  residence  of 
her  mother  and  brothers. 

«  But  the  object  of  the  accursed  villain  was  not  to  marry 
my  sister,  but  to  bring  dishonour  upon  the  family ;  and  he 
effected  it.     My  heart  almost  drops  blood  at  the  thoughts 
which  this  subject  revives  in  my  mind.     He  succeeded  in 
seducing  her  from  the  path  of  virtue,  and  when  it  was  im- 
possible longer  to  conceal  the  consequences  of  her  fatal 
indiscretion,  she — I  cannot  say  eloped  with  him, — but  she 
was  missing,  and  that  was  the  readiest  inference  to  be 
drawn  from  her  disappearance  at  the  threatened  period  of 
exposure,  and  at  the  same  time  with  his  "  three  weeks 
visit  to  the  continent."    At  the  end  of  that  time  he  re- 
turned to  Bargholdt ;   what  became  of  her,  God  only 
knows.     We  were  not  able  to  trace  her  a  foot  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  our  own  estate.     She  was  never  heard  of 
from  the  time  of  her  leaving  the  family  mansion,  unat- 
tended, on  the  morning  of  the  ninth  of  Mf",  1740. 

"We  offered  tempting  rewards  to  any  one  who  would 
bring  us  information  of  her ;  we  used  prayers,  entreaties, 
and,  lastly,  threats  to  the  seducer  himself;  all  alike  proved 
useless.  We  have  never  been  able  to  obtain  any  clew  by 
which  to  trace  her  flight,  or  find  her  grave  ;  we  know  not 
whether  she  died,  or  is  living  at  this  time  in  some  obscure 
part  of  the  globe,  brooding  over  her  guilt  and  shame.  My 
hope  is,  however,  that  the  morning  of  her  disappearance 
was  that  of  her  death." 

Here  the  narrator  became  overwhelmed  with  grief,  and 
could  not  proceed  for  some  minutes.  When  he  recovered 
his  composure  he  resumed  his  narrative,  as  follows  :— 

"  The  blow  almost  destroyed  our  family.  My  brother 
made  an  immediate  call  upon  the  ruffian  for  satisfaction, 
was  met  by  him,  and  killed  the  first  fire.  My  mother,  who 
had  never  known  what  is  called  good  health,  and  for  two 
years  had  been  considered  in  a  very  precarious  state,  did 


128 


UAVERHILL. 


v 


not  survive  the  double  calamity  a  month:  Temple  refused 
my  own  call  to  the  field,  saying  he  had  fully  satisfied  the 
claims  of  our  family  upon  him. 

"  Surprising  as  it  may  seem,  my  brother  left  his  widow 
pregnant.     In  less  than  six  months  after  his  death  she  be 
came  the  mother  of  a  son,  who  was  named  Charles,  after 
his  father  and  great  uncle.     And,  as  if  heaven  had  deter- 
mined  to  frustrate  the  nefarious  designs  of  John  Temple 
and  render  of  no  service  to  him  the  crimes  by  which  he' 
fiad  hoped  to  obtain  gold  at  the  expense  of  our  family 
while,  at  the  same  time,  ho  should  blast  our  happiness 
four  years  afterward  my  wife  gave  birth  to  my  daughte; 
XMary.    1  hus  the  two  parties  were  in  existence  from  whom 
were  to  spring  the  issue  to  defeat  the  contingencies  of  the 
vvil    and  under  It  to  claim  Bargholdt.     Now,  if  the  union 
of  these  tvvo  Char  es  and  Mary  Danvers,  takes  place,  and 
there  should  be  a  child  born  of  their  marriage,  the  estate 
over  which  John  Temple  now  lords  it  becomes  absolutely 
and  indefeasibly  vested  in  them,  and  he  will  be  reached  in 
the  only  part  m  ^yhlch  he  is  vulnerable.     Judge  you,  then 
if  under  these  circumstances,  with  this  cankered  arrow 
rankling  for  tvyenty  years  in  my  heart,  these  deep  wrongs 
treasured  up  brooded  upon,  and  unrevenged,  I  have  not 
reason  to  wish  the  union  of  my  daughter  with  her  cousin 
J^very  wish,  hope,  passion,  thought,  points  to  it.     Interest' 
revenge,  my  afiection  for  my  daughter  and  my  nephew! 
the  exceeding  promise  of  his  character,  all  demand  the 
union ;  nothing  opposes  it  but  the  aspiring  youth  at  my 
Side.     It  IS,  Lynn  Haverhill,  an  object  very  near  and  d"ar 
to  my  heart.     I  would  to-morrow  buy  of}"  an  obstacle,  not 
o  herwise  to  be  overcome,  with  i  ae  sacrifice  of  half  my  for- 
tune.    Thmk-ponder  upon  these  things.     I  command- 
entreat--beg  you  to  give  over  your  suit.     You  have  un- 
doubtedly  acquired  a  strong  hold  upon  the  affections  of  my 
daughter ;  but  she  is  young,  and  to  use  a  vulgar  phrase,  ♦  will 
soon  outgron^  it,'  provided  she  does  not  sea  you     A  farther 
prosecution  of  your  suit  can  only  end  in  disappointment  and 
misery  to  both.   My  daughter  nfust  soon  becle  thTw  f  of 
another.     Her  future  husband  will  be  here  within  two 
Kv?''  '"i'^f^Sh  the  marriage  will  not,  on  account  of 
Mary  s  youth,  take  place  immediately,  we  shall  almost 


".\ 


\ 


HAYKBHILL. 


129 


immediately  embark  for  England.  In  the  busy  scenes 
to  wliich  you  are  about  to  devote  yourself  you  will  soon 
forget  my  daughter.  I  see  by  your  eye  that  what  I  have 
said  has  not  been  thrown  away." 

"  It  has  not,  indeed,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Haverhill,"  said  he,  grasping  my  hand, 
"if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you ;  if  I  can  promote,  by 
my  influence  or  my  money,  any  of  your  views  except  that 
of  marrying  my  daughter, .  command  mc.  I  repeat  that 
my  purse  and  patronage — I  speak  it,  not  in  the  language 
of  the  world — not  because  you  have  apparently  yielded 
to  my  wishes,  but  because  you  deserve  aid, — are  both  at 
your  service — now — to-morrow — next  year — as  long  as  I 
live.    Good  by!" 

And  we  parted  ;  he  to  brood  upon  his  schemes  of  thrift 
and  vengeance,  and  I  over  my  blighted  hopes  and  faded 
visions  of  happiness. 

I  wrote  her,  the  next  day,  a  short  letter,  repeating  the 
heads  of  the  conversation  I  had  had  with  her  father.  I 
told  her  in  that  letter  that  I  considered  myself  bound  and 
her  free.  That  the  various  little  presents  she  had  made 
me  would  be  left  with  my  sister  Sally,  to  be  reclaimed  by 
her  when  she  chose — all  she  had  ever  given  me,  except 
"  one  little  lock  of  hair,  and  that  was  doomed  to  be  carried 
to  other  chmes  in  the  bosom  of  her  sailor-boy." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Never  had  thero  been  so  cheerless  a  day  known  in  our 
house  as  the  twentieth  of  March,  the  day  previous  to  that 
I  had  appointed  for  leaving  home.  It  was  the  Sabbath  as 
regarded  occupation,  k  day  of  mourning  as  regarded  the 
couritenance,  a  day  of  feasting  as  regarded  the  food. 
Every  one  was  anxious  to  show  his  or  her  aflfection  ;  and 
each  put  in  requisition  tlie  little  means  he  possessed  to  en- 
dow me  with  something  to  remember  him  by.  My  sister 
Jenny  knit  me  a  pair  of  mittens  of  the  liveliest  colours  ; 


fa 


130 


HAVERIIILTi. 


Sally  gave  me  a  snuff-box ;  James  a  pretty  penknife.  There 
was  a  week's  preparation  for  the  dinner  of  tiiat  day.  Mv 
little  brother  Michael  was  sent  to  Esquire  Hooper's,  two 
miles  distant,  for  raisins,  that  I  might  be  treated  with 
my  favourite  dish,  a  plum  pudding  ;  and  my  father  went 
a  mile  to  obtain  the  ingredients  for  the  requisite  sauce. 
My  mother  set  about  making  that  universal  titbit  of  i 
New-England  palate,  a  pumpkin-pie ;  and  James  went  to  a 
brook,  five  miles  distant,  to  get  me  some  smelts,  because 
**  I  loved  them."  Each  and  all  endeavoured, in  someway 
or  other,  to  minister  to  my  gratification.  And  what  ren- 
dered the  scene  particularly  solemn,  and  gave  the  house 
the  appearance  of  a  house  of  mourning  was,  that  all  the 
family  had  dressed  themselves  in  their  Sunday  suits  of  so- 
lemn  black ;  and  withal  there  were  the  "  baked  meats,"  to 
render  the  appearance  of  our  house  still  more  funereal. 
Not  a  smile  was  seen  on  the  face  of  any  one  ;  even 
the  old  house-dog,  commonly  wont  to  testify  great  joy 
at  the  reassembling  of  well-known  faces,  now  lay  stretched 
out  in  a  moaning  sleep,  as  if  he  partook  of  the  common 
sorrow. 

At  the  dinner-table  we  all  met  for  the  last  time.  My 
sister  Sally,  who  had  hired  herself,  some  weeks  before,  to 
do  spinning  work  in  a  neighbouring  family ;  and  Betsey, 
who  had  never  lived  at  home  since  the  fifth  year  of  her 
age  ;  and  my  brother  Simeon,  who  was  apprenticed  to  a 
wheelwright,  living  ten  miles  from  us,  came  to  take  their 
farewell  of  me,  and  spend  the  day  at  home.  Behold  us, 
then,  assembled  to  partake  of  "  Lynn's  dinner,"  as  my 
good  mother  called  it.  But,  gentle  reader,  indulge  not 
your  fancy  in  painting  a  scene  of  convivial  joy — the  flow- 
ing bowl,  the  merry  quip,  and  the  ready  jest.  Nothing 
could  be  more  unlike  a  feast  in  its  accepted  definition. 
My  father  sat  on  one  side  of  me,  my  mother  on  the  other, 
so  that  I  suffered  the  misery  of  having  two  prodigal  pro- 
viders to  my  plate.  If  I  had  eaten  all  the  victuals  they 
heaped  upon  it,  it  would  literally  have  been  "  Lynn's  din- 
ner." My  mother  ate  nothing,  keeping  her  eyes,  which 
were  suffused  with  tears,  constantly  bent  upon  me ;  my 
father  gave  better  countenance  to  the  cheer ;  but  all  were 
silent.     My  little  brother  Michael  ^id  indeed  attempt 


"X 


HAVERHILL. 


131 


once  to  break  the  gloom,  so  little  in  unison  with  his  years 
and  disposition,  by  asking  some  provoking  question  of  my 
brother-in-lav»^,  Dexter ;  but  my  mother  repressed  the 
attempt  to  excite  mirth  with  as  much  indignation  as  she 
would  have  done  blasphemy,  or  a  profanation  of  the  Sab- 
bath. 

In  the  evening  we  were  all  assembled  around  the  pa- 
rental hearth,  and  these  are  faithful  reminiscences  of  the 
period.    Michael,  who  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  very  small  boy, 
and  the  "  Benjamin"  of  the  family,  sat  upon  my  knee,  and 
Sally,  whose  extraordinary  sweetness  of  temper,afrectionatc 
disposition,  and  innocent  vivacity,  a  little  aided  by  her  great 
beauty,  for  who  can  resist  the  dominion  of  that  "  witching 
spell  ?"  upon  a  settle  at  my  side,  with  one  of  her  arms  passed 
around  my  waist,  and  her  head  reclined  upon  my  bosom. 
Jane,  my  married  sister,  sat  in  Jront  of  me,  with  one  of  my 
hands  clasped  in  hers,  while  with  the  other  she,  from  time  to 
time,  parted  the  hair  upon  my  forehead,  as  often  giving  it 
a  tender  yet  mournful  kiss.     Boatswain,  the  old  house  dog, 
and  for  ten  years  my  friend  and  playmate,  whose  floggings 
for  the  hats  and  clothes  he  had  torn  for  me  had  been 
without  number,  all  of  which  he  had  kindly  forgottf.n,  as 
aftbetionate  as  the  best  of  them,  contrived,  as  often  as  he 
could  find  an  opportunity,  to  thrust  his  nose  into  my  hand, 
notwithstanding  the  threats  and  remonstrances  of  Sally 
and  Michael,  who  would  have  me  all  to  themselves.    My 
father  had  his  usual  corner  in  our  huge  fireplace,  singing 
incessantly,  without  time  or  melody,  as  was  his  wont 
when  sorely  vexed  and  peculiarly  unhappy.     He  had  but 
a  very  few  songs  for  such  an  occasion.  Now  and  then  you 
could  catch  a  line  of  the  stanza,  sufficiently  loud  and 
clear  to  inform  you  that  he  was  singing,  or  attempting  to 
sing,  a  melancholy  old  song,  which  was  a  great  favour- 
ite, especially  with  the   lower  classes,  fifty  years  ago, 
but  which  is  now  heard  from  the  lips  only  of  the  resolute 
worshippers  of  former   days,  customs,  and  writers.    I 
am  not  quite  sure  that  I  give  the  words  correctly,  for  I 
have  not  been  able  to  find  a  copy,  and  quote  from  my 
memory. 


« 


i 


J 


132 


MWERniLL. 


^^^^k'iM  ^ 

^HRb 

#  #         #         *         # 

Merchants  arc  robbed  of  treasure, 
}\y  tempesfH  and  dcBpnir  I 
But  what  is  the  loiH  of  treasure 
To  tlJo  losing  of  my  dear  ? 

#  #  «  «  « 

O'er  the  dark  waves  a  stooping, 
His  iloating  corpse  sha  spied, 
Then,  like  a  lily  drooping. 
She  bowed  her  head,  and  died. 

"  Oh,  don't  sing  that  song,  Simon,"  said  my  mother, 
"  pray  don't  einj^  that  song,  I  liavo  never  heard  you  sing 
that  melancholy  ditty  since  the  time  that  fiitlier  wns 
thought  to  have  foundered  in  the  schooner  Loving  Couple, 
upon  the  banks  of  Newfoundland.  It  always  makes  me 
shed  tears  to  hear  you  sing  that  song,  because  I  know  you 
are  very  unhappy  then,"  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Don't  you  cry,  Jenny,  don't  you  cry  now,"  said  my 
father,  with  great  tenderness.  "Why,  I'll  promise,  old 
woman,  never  to  raise  my  voice  in  a  musical  way  again, 
not  even  to  sing  'Old  Betty  Baker,'  or  'Moll,  put  the 
kettle  on,'  if  you'll  only  whist  up.  But  you  are  grown  a 
chicken-hearted  thing  to  cry  because  I — am  merry,  and 
sing  a  few  snatches  of  an  old  song,  just  to  pass  away  the 
time.  Come,  come,  own  now,  my  poor  old  woman,  that 
you  only  wanted  an  excuse  for  your  tears.  Confess  now, 
Jenny,  that  you  thank  me,  in  your  heart,  for  giving  you  a 
chance  to  open  the  *  floodgates  of  the  soul,'  as  the  parson 
said  last  Sabbath." 

"  I  suppose  you  arc  right,  Simon." 

"  Well,  I  thought  I  was." 

"  I  feel  as  if  my  heart  would  break,"  said  she,  speaking 
■with  difficulty  through  her  sobs,  "  when  I  think  we  are 
going  to  lose  our  darling,  our  good  and  handsome  Lynn, 
To-morrow!  oh,  he  is  going  to-morrow — that  is  very 
soon." 

"  Why,  he  will  not  be  gone  more  than  three  months,  if 
he  goes  to  Jamaica,"  said  my  father,  anxious  to  console 
her. 

"  Don't  name  that  dreadful  place  again,  if  you  wish  me 
to  keep  my  senses,"   said   my  mother.     "Don't   you 


^ 


nAVERIIILL. 


133 


remember  what — Jack  (she  usually  made  a  pause  when 
about  to  name  liim  as  an  authority)  wliat  Jack  told  us 
about  a  liurricanc  he  experienced  there  once,  which  blew 
the  rinc-bolts  clean  out  of  the  deck,  and  lifted  a  crowbar 
as  if  it  had  been  a  feather.  If  my  son  goes  to  Jamaica,  I 
shall  never  sec  him  any  more." 

As  she  paused  to  let  her  tears  flow  freely,  old  Captain 
Brimblecome,  with  whom  I  was  to  take  passage  for 
Boston,  entered  to  say  that  in  consequence  of  his  carrying 
away  his  bowsprit  as  he  was  beating  around  the  Dog- 
fisher's  bank,  he  should  defer  going  until  the  !28th.  *•  At 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  that  day,  Lynn,  you  must  be 
on  board,"  said  he.  "  And  now,  aunt  (my  mother  was 
universally  called  so  in  the  hamlet),  I  hope  you  will  give 
me  a  drop  o'  gin  for  my  good  news." 

The  gin  was  given  him,  and  he  went  off  as  usual  in 
"  a  great  hurry." 

What  a  surprising  change  the  news  wrought  in  our 
family  !  ]My  mother's  pocket  handkerchief  was  out  in  a 
moment,  the  drops  of  sorrow  were  wiped  from  her  cheeks, 
and  her  beautiful  black  eyes  shone  with  the  lustre  of  the 
diamond.  My  father  exchanged  his  melancholy  song  for 
'« Old  King  Cole  was  a  jolly  old  soul,"  and  according  to  his 
custom  when  any  thing  very  pleasant  had  .happened, 
called  for  his  pipe,  and  bade  Sally  make  him  a  "  mug  of 
flip."  My  brothers  an.l  sisters,  even  to  "  Jenny  and  her 
son-il  nag,"  as  the  malicious  Michael  usually  called  the  pair, 
were  out  upon  the  floor  in  a  lively  jig ;  there  was  3ven 
talk  of  sending  for  the  negro  fiddler.  The  eld  dog, 
according  to  his  invariable  custom  when  there  was  a  great 
uproar  in  the  house,  fell  to  whining  and  frisking — making 
circles  round  the  room  with  his  tail  between  his  legs, 
jumping  into  the  vacant  chairs,  and  alternately  seizing  and 
dropping  every  thing  that  came  in  his  way.  By-the-by, 
they  never  do  these  things  unless  they  are  very  joyful. 
The  wand  of  Circe  did  not  sooner  transform  the  com- 
panions of  the  wise  King  of  Ithaca  into  swine  than  the  half- 
a-dozen  words  of  the  old  skipper  did  our  peevish  and 
melancholy  family  into  one  remarkably  happy  aiid  joyful. 
A  person  who  had  never  witnessed  the  joy  of  a  condemned 
criminal  who  has  just  received  a  pardon  might  have 

Vol.  I.— 12 


iJ 


.^ 


134 


HAVERFILL. 


;v 


gained  a  very  tolerable  idea  of  it  from  d  glanco  at  the  re- 
touched countenances  of  our  family. 

At  the  same  moment  in  came  Jack  Reeve,  as  usual, 
"  brimful  of  the  Devil,"  singing — 

In  came  uncle  and  aunt, 

In  came  cousin  Ketury, 
In  came  liddler  Nat, 

And  play'd  away  like  a  fury. 

This  was  Jack's  usual  song  vi^hen  he  had  a  little  too 
much  liquor  on  board,  which  proved  to  be  the  case  now. 
He  was,  however,  not  any  too  tipsy  to  assist  in  and  pro- 
mote the  merriment  which  was  going  on,  though  he  was  a 
little  too  much  "by  the  head"  for  the  comfort  of  my 
mother,  whom  he  teased  to  dance  till  she  was  compelled 
to  "sail  up  and  down"  (a  favourite  measure  in  New- 
England)  a  few  times  with  him  in  order  to  be  rid  of  his 
troublesome  importunity.  It  was  Jack,  however,  and  no 
offence  was  taken. 

"  Oh,  by-the-by,  Simon  Magus,"  said  Jack — drunk  or 
sober  he  never  called  my  father  by  any  other  name, — "  I 
have  a  message  for  you  from  Jemmy  Cleveland." 

"  And  what  is  it  ?"  asked  my  father. 

"  He  ca'n't  go  in  the  boat  to-morrow." 

"  Ca'n't  go  in  the  boat,  the  lazy  dog !  the  worse  than 
hound !  and  the  moment  tiie  keel  strikes  the  sand  he'll  be 
begging  for  fish — but  not  one  shall  he  have,  no,  not  even  a 
head,  not  even  a  skate  or  a  dog-fish — do  you  hear  Tim, 
Jem,  John — " 

"  His  second  child  is  very  sick,"  interrupted  Jack. 

"  'Od  bless  me  !  what's  the  clock — too  late  to  go  and 
see  him  to-night.  Do  you  hear  Tim,  Jem,  John,  give  him 
a  capital  fish  the  moment  the  keel  strikes  the  sand.  Poor 
creatures !  And  so  the  boat  lacks  a  hand.  What  say  you, 
my  son,  to  a  trip  in  the  boat  to-morrow  ?" 

"  I  will  go,  my  father,"  said  I. 

"Oh  no,  don't  send  him,"  said  my  mother;  "he  has 
only  eight  days  more  to  stay,  let  him  pass  them  with  us." 
My  sisters  and  Michael  also  begged  hard,  but  I  would  not 
be  overborne  on  this  point.  I  answered  my  mother  with 
a  kiss,  and  Jenny  with  an  affected  show  of  resentment, 


Wi 


nAVERIIILIi. 


135 


squeezed  Sally's  hand  till  I  brought  tears  to  her  eyes,  and 
cuffed  the  ears  of  little  Michael,— far  more  however  to  his 
gratification  than  his  injury.  Seeing  me  resolved  to  go 
they  said  no  more.  Conversation  vs^as  then  resumed  upon 
the  usual  topics;  and  Jack  "gave  us  a  few  yarns  for  us 
to  'lay  up'  when  he  should  be  able  to  spin  no  more." 

Soon  the  hour  arrived  at  which  it  was  usual  for  our 
family  to  ejaculate  their  lowly  petitions  and  retire  to  their 
humble  pallets.     This  was  half-past  nine  the  year  round. 
At  a  quarter  past  that  hour  my  father  invariably  said— to 
me,  if  I  were  present,—"  read  a  chapter  of  the  blessed 
book,  my  son ;"  if  I  were  absent,  Sally,  the  next  best 
reader  in  our  family,  was  called  upon  to  perform  the 
sacred  duty.     When  the  chapter  was  finished,  we  sat 
sileni   for  three  or  four  minutes,  and  then  my  father— 
whose  posture  for  offering  up  the  prayers,  which  were 
never  either  forgotten  or  neglected,  was  somewhat  singu- 
lar,—kneeling  at  my  mother's  feet  with  his  forehead  rest- 
ing upon  her  hands,  addressed  the  throne  of  grace  for 
about  five  minutes.     A  shake  of  the  hand  and  a  kiss  upon 
the  forehead  always  preceded  our  retirement  for  the  night ; 
upon  this,  the  last  evening  we  ever  spent  together,  the 
kisses  were  without  stint. 

It  is  the  practice  of  those  who  follow  the  fishery  of  cod 
upon  the  coast  of  New-England  to  rise  at  a  very  early 
hour  in  the  morning,— that  is,  with  that  portion  of  them 
who  have  a  long  way  to  row  before  they  reach  the  fishing- 
ground.    Upon  most  parts  of  the  coast  at  the  points 
where  the  employment  obtains,  the  ledges  and  banks 
where  the  greatest  quantity  of  fish  is  taken  lie  from  six  to 
ten  miles  from  the  shore.    When  this  distance  is  to  be 
gained  by  rowing— as  the  boalmen  express  it— in  "  the 
teeth  of  an  on-shore  wind,"  the  boats  usually  leave  the 
starting-place  two  hours  at  least  before  daybreak.    Add 
to  this  an  hour  employed  in  remarking  upon  the  weather 
and  casting  up  the  signs  of  the  sky,  in  eating  a  hasty  and 
ill-prepared  breakfast,  and  in  launching  and  ballasting  the 
boat,  and  you  have  the  hour  at  which  the  fisherman  is  sent 
forth  from  his  warm  bed  to  his  coarse,  toilsome,  and  ill- 
requited  employment.     It  is  a  hard  hfe— much  harder 
than  any  other  dependent  upon  or  connected  with  the 


i 


y^ 


13i 


i'r      '4 


HAVERHILL. 


ocean,— a  life  without  gain  or  glory,  a  life  of  great  fatigue 
and  considerable  peril,  a  life  which  has  never  made  a  man 
rich,  and  seldom  left  him  honest. 

My  father's  cabin  stood  upon  the  very  verge  of  the 
ocean,  just  behind  a  little  hillock  of  sand,  covered  with  low 
stunted  oaks  and  dwarf  plumbushes,  which  served  in  some 
measure  to  protect  it  from  the  southerly  gales,  the  fogs, 
and  the  spray  which  the  breakers,  in  the  time  of  high  out' 
wmds,  threw  against  it.     Though  the  situation  was  not  so 
•trongly  marked  as  some  others  by  the  rugged  "  features" 
of  bold  rocks  and  steep  cliffs,  though  there Vere  wanting 
the  mighty  frontlets  towering  into  mid-heaven,  and  the  enor- 
mous masses,  pile  upon  pile,  of  granite,  w^hich  distinguish 
the  seacoast  of  many  other  countries,  it  was,  nevertheless, 
at  times,  very  rough  and  dismal,  and  upon  the  occasion 
of  strong  winds  and  equinoctial  hurricanes,  exhibited  scenes 
of  great  and  awful  sublimity.    At  a  distance  varying  from 
two  to  six  miles  from  the  strand,  were  a  number  of  shoals 
and  ledges,  over  which  swept  the  winds  and  rolled  the 
waves  of  a  limitless  ocean.     It  was  frightful  to  look  at 
these  ledges  after  a  violent  and  long-continued  south  or 
south-east  wind.     Many  and  horribly  tragical  were  the 
maritime  disasters  which  had  taken  place  within  my  young 
recollection  upon  these  same  ledges.    I  had  stood  upon 
the   chff,  within  twenty  rods  of  my  father's  cabin,  and 
seen,  without  being  able  to  extend  succour,  the  gallant  ship 
Merrimack,  laden  with  the  choicest  merchandise  of  the 
East,  strike  upon  a  ledge  of  rocks  at  seven  in  the  morning, 
and  at  two  in  the  afternoon  not  a  plank  of  her  remain,  nor 
a  single  being  in  existence  of  those  who  navigated  her 
thither.     I  had  assisted  to  take  from  a  stranded  bark,  in 
the  shrouds  and  stays  of  which  they  had  lashed  themselves, 
seven  men  frozen  to  death  in  a  winter  storm.    I  could  fill 
a  volume  with  the  tragical  occurrences  I  witnessed  while  a 
resident  upon  the  Atlantic  coast. 

Few  of  the  visiters  of  New-England  have  been  much  in 
love  with  the  scenery  of  her  marine  border.  Presenting, 
for  the  greater  part  of  a  distance  of  five  hundred  miles,  an 
almost  continuous  chain  of  rocks  and  ledges,  with  here 
and  there  a  bleak  sandy  beach,  or  a  wooded  waste  or 
"  barren,"  or  a  sluggish  and  stagnant  lalx,  there  are  few 


r-5'*-^ 


nAYBBHILIi. 


137 


r  great  fatigue 
f  made  a  man 

verge  of  the 
Bred  with  low 
erved  in  some 
lies,  the  fogs, 
3  of  high  out- 
)n  was  not  so 
ad  "  features" 
ivere  wanting 
and  the  enor- 
ch  distinguish 
nevertheless, 
the  occasion 
libited  scenes 
varying  from 
iber  of  shoals 
id  rolled  the 
il  to  look  at 
led  south  or 
lal  were  the 
lin  my  young 
i  stood  upon 
s  cabin,  and 
e  gallant  ship 
ndise  of  the 
the  morning, 
r  remain,  nor 
avigated  her 
ided  bark,  in 
1  themselves, 
I  could  fill 
essed  while  a 

een  much  in 
Presenting, 
red  miles,  an 
s,  with  here 
id  waste  or 
ere  are  few 


situations  on  her  shores  which  have  led  to  a  breach  of  the 
commandment  which  forbids  our  coveting  our  neigh- 
hour's  possessions.  If  one  finds  pleasure  in  surveying  the 
ocean  when  it  is  agitated  by  high  winds,  and  curling 
frightfully  over  the  ledges,  and  dashing  against  the  rocky 
bluffs,  he  may  find,  or  rather  cannot  choose  but  find,  situa- 
tions very  much  to  his  liking.  But  he  who  loves  to  see 
external  nature  at  rest,  and  worships  the  placid  and  beaur 
tiful  rather  than  the  sublime  and  terrible,  and  enjoys  no 
pleasure,  but  rather  derives  pain  from  witnessing  the  dis- 
cords of  the  elements,  and  listening  to  their  continual  noise, 
must  go  at  least  fifteen  miles  from  the  seacoast  of  New- 
England. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Our  father  called  us  from  our  beds  the  next  morning  at 
the  usual  hour,  and  went  out  with  us  to  remark  upon  the 
condition  of  the  weather.  A  calmer  and  more  beautiful 
morning  I  never  saw  at  that  season  of  the  year,  it  might 
well  have  been  taken  for  a  May  morning.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  the  remains  of  a  temple  of  snow  (of  Michael's 
erection),  which  the  sun  was  fast  condemning  to  desecra- 
tion, one  would  have  been  extending  his  nostrils  to  inhale 
the  odour  of  May  flowers.  It  was  neither  raw  nor  chilly, 
as  the  air  of  a  March  morning  is  apt  to  be.  The  light  cur- 
rent of  wind  which  swept  up  the  long  deep  valley,  upon 
one  side  of  which,  or  rather  upon  a  knoll  jutting  into  it,  our 
cabin  stood,  wanted  entirely  the  frosty  mist  which  usually, 
at  that  season  of  the  year  and  period  of  the  morning,  fills 
the  lowlands  and  marshy  bottoms.  Except  in  the  valley 
it  was  perfectly  calm,  save  when  you  ran  or  walked  fast, 
when  a  slight  breeze  met  you,  just  enough  to  give  you 
breath  for  the  race,  while  it  pointed  a  moral, — ^for  it  re- 
minded you  of  the  opposition  which  the  rich  and  powerful 
encounter  in  their  undertakings  from  a  world  only  austere 
and  repulsive  to  the  lowlv  sinner.    Reader !  has  it  never 

*  12* 


1S8 


■▲TXRHXLL. 


n  * 


If 


'.f 


IP  ' 


:• 


occurred  to  you,  at  these  moments,  that  there  was  this  re- 
semblance  between  the  "  counter-puff"  of  a  slightly  rarefied 
atmosphere,  and  the  opposition  of  mankind  to  a  master- 
spirit !  It  was  one  of  the  first  philosophical  comparisons  I 
ever  drew. 

I  was  speaking,  before  philosophy  drew  me  aside,  of 
the  smgular  loveliness  of  the  morning  which  ushered  in  the 
most  eventful  day  of  my  existence.  The  ocean,  which 
lay  spread  out  before  us  in  all  its  glory,  seemed  a  vast  sheet 
of  glass,  an  immense  mirror,  made  for  the  deities  of  night, 
ihe  moon  and  the  stars,  to  see  their  resplendent  faces  in. 
There  was  not  a  breath  of  air  to  break  its  repose,  which 
was  that  of  a  sleeping  infant,  save  upon  the  very  edge  of 
the  strand,  where  a  few  ripples  murmured  and  fretted  a 
httle,  supplymg  a  continuation  to  my  simile  of  the  infant, 
to  the  moment  of  its  waking  and  moaning  for  nourishment. 
To  add  to  the  splendour  and  beauty  of  the  scene,  that 
bright  phenomenon  of  the  Arctic  skies,  the  aurora  horealh 
had  lit  up  the  northern  parts  of  the  heavens  with  its  singu- 
lar and  lurid  effulgence.  Associating  its  tinge  of  redness 
with  the  yellow  beams  of  the  moon,  it  produced  Open  the 
broad  folds  of  a  cloud  just  sinking  away  in  the  southeast  a 
very  unusual  shade  of  light.  An  astrologer,  abroad  to  cast 
a  horoscope,  might  have  made  something  of  it. 

The  boatmen  of  the  hamlet  were  chiefly  on  the  shore 
before  us.     We  found  them  busy  preparing  tiieir  boats. 

"A  charming  morning  this.  Uncle  Eb.,"  said  my  father, 
to  an  old  experienced  fisherman,  by  name  Ebenczer  Gill, 
who  had  acquired  great  reputation  in  his  line  of  business, 
and  whose  opinions  regarding  the  weather  were  more  va- 
lued than  those  of  any  almanac-maker  of  the  time.     "  The 

town  of ,"  resumed  my  father,  "will  be  a  hundred 

piunds  richer  to-night,  Eben  GilJ,  than  it  is  now." 

*  Why,  y— e— s,  'tis  as  you  say,  a  fine  morning,  a  mighty 
fine  morning.  I  raally  wish  it  wasn't  half  so  fine."  And 
the  observant  old  man  gave  a  knowing  look  at  the  sky  and 
the  ocean,  and  placed  himself  in  the  attitude  of  listening. 

"  Why,  surely  you  don't  think  it  a  weather-breeder,  do 
you?"  asked  my  father,  while  the  boatmen  generally 
crowded  around  us,  to  hear  the  opinion  of  one  so  fitted  to 


;    I. 


II 


BATKRHILL. 


139 


impart  valuable  information  upon  the  weather,  and  usually 
so  chary  of  doing  it. 

«  Y— e— s,  I  do,"  replied  he,  adding,  in  a  half-whisper, 
as  though  he  was  communicating  a  piece  of  intelligence 
which  would  be  unpleasant  to  some  to  hear.  "  'Tis  the 
twenty-first  of  March — the  sun  crosses  the  line  to- 
morrow." 

'•Very  true,"  ejaculated  several  of  the  boatmen. 

"There's  the  lyin  (line)  gale  upon  the  back  of  this 
sweet  morning,  neighbours." 

"  Why,  now,  I  declare  I  sees  nothing  at  all  of  what  uncle 
Eb.  is  talkmg  about,"  said  Peter  Pepper,  a  forwaid  and 
presuming  boy.    "  But  then  I  never  wears  specs." 

"  That's  because  you  are  a  boy,  and  a— fool.  Fete,  and 
know  no  better,"  answered  the  angry  old  boatman.  "  The 
ligns  of  the  sea  and  the  signs  of  the  land  are  all  against 
U8,  Pete.  The  sheep  and  the  out-a-door  cattle  have  beeir 
feeding,  or  trying  to  feed,  for  it  isn't  much  they  can  get 
now,  the  livelong  nighf,  and  that's  a  true  sign  of  a  storm. 
And  hark  ye,  Simon,  do  just  listen  to  the  roar  of  the  S9a 
upon  the  "  Sow  and  Pigs"  and  the  "  Hen  and  Chickens," 
(tw»  ledges,  which  bore  those  several  names)— that's  a 
sign  I  never  knew  to  fail.  And  didn't  you  see  how 
Washqua-Hill  loomed  yesterday  ?  Jack  Reeve  did,  for  he 
spoke  about  it  to  my  Debby.  However,  we  may  take  a 
score  or  two  of  your  raal  first  comers,  your  forty-two 
pounders,  before  it  comes  on  to  blow  hard.  It  is  a  good 
time  for  halibut  too,  and  a  piece  of  the  fin  of  that  fish  is 
worth  a  wet  jacket  and  a  hard  row,  at  any  time." 

So  saying,  he  applied  his  shoulder  to  the  stem  of  his 
boat,  having  previously  removed  the  sliores,  or  props, 
which  prevented  it  from  falling  on  its  side,  and  laid  under 
its  keel  a  number  of  round  sticks  of  wood,  technically 
call  d  "  skids,"  to  keep  it  from  the  sand,  when,  with  a  cry 
of  "now,  now  she  goes,"  uttered  simultaneously,  and  in 
concert  by  all  who  assisted  in  launching  her— just  as  the 
men  employed  in  the  capstern,  or  the  windlass  of  a  man- 
of-war  in  "  setting  up  stays,"  "  stretching  new  rigging,"  or 
raising  the  anchor,  shout  their  boisterous  '« yo-heave-ho," 
she  was  deposited  in  her  proper  element.  The  same 
course  was  pursued  with  all,  each  assisting  the  other,  until 


r 


1 

4 


ifi  ,'tt 


m  ■  I 


t.  f 


m 


hi 


140  UAVBRHILL. 

the  whole  were  launched,  ballasted,  and  prepared  for  their 
departure.  In  ten  minutes  or  less  the  miniature  fleet, 
about  twenty  in  number,  were  in  "  sailing  trim,  and  con- 
ditioned  for 'their  twelve  hours'  voyage. 

We  all  rowed  out  together  as  far  as  the  'Inner 
Ground,"  where  the  greater  part  of  the  boats  anchored, 
and  commenced  fishing.  The  uncommon  beauty  of  the 
morning,  and  the  reasonable  prospect  of  better  sport, 
together  with  the  disposition  we  all  have  to  strive  for  that 
which  is  remote  and  contingent,  in  preference  to  that 
which  is  near  at  hand  and  more  certain,  tempted  the  re- 
mainder,  among  whom  were  ourselves,  to  go  out  to  the 
"  Middle  Ground,"  two  miles  further.  Not  finding  fish  ai 
plentiful  there  as  we  hoped  to  have  done,  we,  I  mean  myself 
and  brothers,  young,  ardent,  fearless,  and  to  use  an  ap.  , 
proved,  and  on  this  occasion  appropriate  phrase,  tool. 
hardy,"  drew  up  our  "  kedge,"  as  a  boat-anchor  is  usually  1 
called,  and  rowed  out  to  the  Little  Round  Shoal,  more  than 
four  leagues  from  the  shore,  and  a  league  beyond  the 
farthest  stopping-place  of  the  most  venturesome  of  our 
companions.  No  one  followed  us  in  this  mad  enterprre, 
and  many  was  the  hearty  laugh  we  enjoyed  at  the  expense 
of  the  "  cowardly  fellows,  who  remained  tied  to  their 
mother's  apron  strings,  within  call  of  their  daddies." 

«  Who  would  have  thought,  now,  that  Bill  Condar  had 
no  more  spunk  in  him  ?"  said  James. 

«  I,"  answered  John,  "  I  always  knew  he  was  a  great, 
lubberly,  chicken-hearted  fellow  ever  since  he  let  little 
Oliver  Crosby  flog  him." 

Not  a  few  were  the  other  jibes  which  passed,  at  tno 
expense  of  others  of  our  comrades,  and  many  were  the 
«  shots  let  fly"  at  them,  by  my  lively  and  fun-loving  brothers. 

As  the  sun  neared  the  zenith  the  signs  of  the  approach- 
ing hurricane  or  equinoctial  storm  became  more  apparent. 
That  glorious  orb  seemed  a  ball  of  fire,  and  to  wade  with 
difliculty  through  the  surcharged  atmosphere.  Still  it  was 
perfectly  calm,  and  for  a  while  smooth  as  the  surface  of  a 
lake  from  vs'hich  the  winds  are  fenced  by  a  thick  foliage. 
Gradually  there  arose  small  ripples  which  swelled  into 
biflows,  and  these  broke  into  sheets  of  foam,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  any  wind,  or  other  apparent  cause  to  vex  them. 


HAYEIlinLL. 


141 


That  cause  existed  amid  the  other  inexplicable  mysteries 
of  nature  and  the  material  world,  though  veiled  from  the 
eyes  of  men,  with  a  thousand  other  things,  which,  doubt- 
less, it  is  not  good  nor  profitable  for  them  to  know. 

Nor  were  other  signs — such  as  should  not  have  been  neg- 
lected, wanting  of  the  approach  of  the  tempest.  The 
feathered  tribes,  whom  nature  has  gifted  with  a  wonderful 
perception  of  approaching  danger,  seemed  to  be  struck 
with  great  consternation,  and  to  be  preparing  for  some 
dreadful  convulsion.  That  shrewd  and  cjiutious  old  fellow, 
the  seagull,  who  had  been  to  the  fresh- water  ponds  for 
his  breakfast  of  fish,  was  now,  to  the  great  joy  of  his  bitter 
enemy  and  rival,  the  crow,  beheld  winging  his  flight  to  sea, 
(raining  an  olRng,  as  is  his  wont  when  instinct  informs  him 
of  an  approachuig  hurricane.  Others  of  his  tribe,  a  little 
more  tardy  in  their  movements,  but  with  the  same  pur- 
pose in  view,  were  seen  performing  their  spiral  evolutions 
in  the  mid-heavens,  the  wild  screaming  in  chorus  with  the 
noisy  loon  which  preludes  a  storm,  by  a  cry  nearly  re- 
sembling the  baying  of  a  deep-throated  hound.  Innume- 
rable flocks  of  black  fowls,  such  as  sea-coots,  "isle  o' 
shoals,"  "  old  wdves,"  a  species  of  small  duck,  so  denomi- 
nated from  their  incessant  scolding  and  blustering,  were 
gaining,  in  the  language  of  fowlers,  a  "  windward  station," 
—every  thing  gave  evidence  that  a  tempest  would  speedily 
burst  upon  us. 

A  little  after  meridian,  a  breeze  sprung  up  from  the 
north-east — at  its  commencement  a  very  gentle  breeze, 
scarce  sufficient  to  have  endangered  the  safety  of  an  inex- 
perienced boy  navigating  a  pleasure-boat  with  a  man-of- 
war's  mizen  for  his  sail.  Soon  the  wind  became  unsteady 
—at  times  tranquil,  and  then — whew !  a  blast  would 
sweep  across  you  which  would  fairly  come  within  the  de- 
finition of  that  lesser  degree  of  tempest  which  your  fear- 
nothing,  dare-devil  description  of  sailors  call  a  "  capful  of 
wind,"  This  passed,  there  would  ensue  a  calm,  from 
which  a  lighted  candle  need  have  asked  no  favour. 

It  was  now  that  okl  Mr.  Gill,  never  loath  to  bestow  the 
benefit  of  his  experience  upon  others,  placed  a  waft  at  the 
head  of  his  little  mast  to  warn  us  in.  A  few  minutes  after 
he  departed  for  the  shore  wearing  it  still,  and  in  addition 


V' 


.;!1 


U,\ 


I 


142 


IIAYERniLL. 


another  half-way  up  the  mast  or  "  half-mast,"  the  well 
known  signal  of  distress,  to  signify  the  danger  we  were  in. 
But  we  paid  no  attention  to  these  signals.  We  had  a 
good  boat,  and  were  all  of  us  excellent  rowers,  and 
besides  were  exceedingly  ambitious  of  the  honour  of  being 
last  to  "  strike  the  sand."  Then  the  fish  had  just  "  struck 
in,"  or  become  plentiful,  and  to  return  with  a  loaded  boat 
when  others  had  failed,  to  be  able  to  say  wuh  a  shrug  to 
our  companions" I'll g-iye  you  a  fish,"  would  be  something 
to  boast  of,  and  pass  good-natured  jokes  about  for  the  next 
two  days.  I  believe,  however,  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
blame  should  rest  upon  myself.  My  brothers  were  little 
better,  at  any  time,  than  passive  instruments  of  my  plea- 
sure,  blind  executors  of  my  will.  They  had  been  so  long 
in  the  habit  of  yielding  to  me,  and  of  suppressing  their 
wishes  till  they  knew  mine,  that  it  is  not  strange  they  were 
silent  now.  I  recollect,  however,  that  I  caught  their  eyes 
several  times  anxious,!y  turned  towards  the  shore,  and 
once  Timothy  openly  spoke  of  his  wish  to  go  back.  But 
I  hushed  him  with  a  story  of  the  honour  we  should  gain  by 
outstaying  the  whole  fleet,  and  returning  with  a  full  fare 
besides. 

In  the  mean  time  the  gale  kept  increasing,  but  then  the 
fish  came  "thicker  and  faster,"  and  "a  few  minutes 
more,"  we  said  to  each  other,  "  can  neither  make  nor 
break." 

We  had  nearly  filled  our  boat  with  fine  fish,  old  Mr. 
Gill's  "  forty-two  pounders,"  and  were  at  the  very  instant 
to  set  out  for  the  shore,  when  a  vessel  appeared  in  the 
south-east,  close-hauled  upon  the  wind,  to  use  the  nautical 
phrase,  with  her  starboard  tacks  on  board,  which  means 
that  she  was  sailing  with  the  wind  upon  her  right-hand 
bow.  The  wind  was  about  north-east,  and  she  was 
steering  north-west.  We  soon  made  her  out  to  be  a  large 
ship,  with  no  ports  visible,  probably  a  merchantman. 
We  could  see  that  she  wore  at  her  mizen-peak  the  cus- 
tomary signal  for  a  pilot.  I  proposed  to  my  brothers  that 
we  should  row  out  to  her,  and  as  we  were  acquainted  with 
all  the  shoals  and  ledges  for  twenty  miles  east,  and  as 
many  west  of  our  hamlet,  that  we  should  offer  to  conduct 
her  into  either  of  the  adjacent  harbours  of  — —  and 


ft 


HAVinniLt. 


143 


— .     They  of  course  said  "  yes,"  as  they  always  did 

to  any  thing  of  my  proposing.  At  the  moment  when  the 
gale  had  increased  so  much  that  it  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  we  could  propel  our  boat  to  windward  at  all,  and  we 
could  see  that  our  companions  were  straining  every  nerve 
for  the  land,  we  set  out  to  speak  the  unknown  vessel  more 
than  a  league  to  leeward  of  us. 

We  had  rowed  a  mile  or  more  towards  her,  when  all  at 
once  we  saw  her  take  in  the  flag,  which  denoted  her  wish 
for  a  pilot,  and  shaking  the  reefs  out  of  her  topsails,  and 
slackening  her  weather-braces  and  bowlines,  keep  away, 
as  if  determined  noi  to  be  spoken.  This  was  not  a  plea- 
sant discovery  to  us,  caught  more  than  twelve  miles  from 
the  shore,  night  near  at  hand,  and  a  storm  just  ready  to 
burst  upon  us.  The  intentions  of  the  object  which  had 
seduced  us  into  this  further  peril — may  God  forgive  those 
who  directed  her  movements  !  they  have  lives  to  answer 
for— were  soon  made  more  fully  apparent.  While  we  lay 
viewing  her,  the  main  top-gallant  sail  and  the  courses  were 
loosed  and  set,  her  yards  were  squared,  and  she  was 
steered  away  from  the  land,  leaving  us,  whom  her  go- 
vernors must  have  seen,  to  the  perils  and  horrors  of  a 
stormy  night  in  a  boat,  the  keel  of  which  was  only  eigh- 
teen feet  in  length. 

And  now  commenced  our  hardships.  With  the  greatest 
exertions  we  were  capable  of  making,  our  progress  towards 
the  shore  was  inconsiderable.  The  wind  continued  in- 
creasing, and  with  it  the  number  and  magnitude  of  my  own 
special  trials.  My  brothers,  who  never  had  much  fortitude, 
were  disposed  to  lie  down  and  suffer  themselves  to  be  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  waves  without  resistance.  It  required  a 
vigorous  exertion  of  the  power  I  had  gained  over  them 
to  rouse  them  to  the  simplest  efforts  for  our  preservation. 
"We  must  be  drowned,"  said  they, "  why  then  should  we 
toil  ?"  I  thought  such  a  catastrophe  nearly  unavoidable,  but 
a  natural  disposition  to  buffet  with  danger  to  the  last  mo- 
ment, together  with  a  kind  of  instinctive  feeling  that  I 
was  borw  for  something  better  than  had  yet  fallen  to  my 
lot,  encouraged  me  to  do  further  battle  with  the  elements, 
and  I  succeeded  in  imparting  a  small  portion  of  my  own 
resolution  to  my  less  sanguine  brothers.    "  Psliaw  !"  said  I 


i 


r  f 


) 


it 


144 


nAVlRIIILL. 


to  them ;  "  what !  givo  up  at  the  first  appearnncc  of  dan- 
ger? why,  after  all,  boys,  there  is  but  a  capful  of  wind. 
John,  you  have  tho  Ice  after  oar,  which  is  much  the  hardest, 
and  besides  you  are  not  so  strong  as  I  am,  come  forward, 
my  boy,  and  let  me  take  your  place.  There,  that  will  do, 
and  now  we  will  have  a  cup  of  mother's  ginger-tea  befori  i 
you  can  say  Jack  Robinson." 

We  continued  to  force  our  boat  through  the  billows  and 
foam,  until  the  doing  so  nearly  cost  us  our  lives.  A  surge 
broke  over  us,  and  filled  our  boat  half  full  of  water.  If 
we  had  not  previously  lightened  it  of  more  than  half  the  fish 
we  had  taken,  it  must  have  sunk  on  the  spot.  By  the 
providence  of  God  we  were  enabled  to  bale  out  the  water 
before  another  surge  came.  Finding  we  could  make  no 
headway  towards  the  shore,  and  that  the  attempt  to  prope! 
the  boat  thitherward  waa  fraught  with  great  danger,  \vc 
adopted  the  only  remaining  alternative — we  kept  its  head 
to  the  wind,  and  used  just  the  degree  of  exertion  that  waa 
requisite  to  enable  us,  in  the  language  of  the  sea,  to  "  hold 
our  own," — that  is,  keep  the  boat  from  drifting  any  fartlier 
to  leeward.  There  was  no  possibility  of  our  reaching  the 
shore  till  the  tempest  should  be  abated  of  half  its  violence, 
and  the  morning  sun  and  a  clearer  atmosphere  should 
discover  to  us  the  point  of  coast  we  had  left. 

Darkness,  pitchy  darkness,  now  set  in.  In  the  sublime 
language  of  the  beautiful  parable,  "  the  rains  beat  and  the 
winds  blew,"  not  indeed  "  upon  a  house  built  upon  the 
sand,"  but  upon  a  still  frailer  dwelling  on  a  far  more 
unstable  clement.  ] 

Never  was  there  a  more  fearful  night  than  this.  Sood 
after  dark  it  began  to  thunder  and  lighten,  and  it  continued 
to  do  so  for  six  or  seven  hours.  The  rain  came  down  in 
torrents,  and  the  wind  whistled  and  moaned  fearfully  in  the 
ears  of  the  four  poor  boys,  cast  desolate  upon  a  midnight 
ocean.  It  was  so  dark  that,  save  when  the  lightnings  glared, 
displaying  the  white  and  foaming  crest  of  the  billows,  you 
could  not  see  your  hand  at  the  distance  of  a  foot  from  your 
face.  Add  to  this,  that  wc  were  compelled  to  keep  baling 
incessantly,  and  the  reader  will  have  an  imperfect  idea  of 
the  labours  and  horrors  which  fell  to  our  share  to  do  and 
to  suffer  on  that  dreadful  night. 


,i. 


JT** 


BAVERniLXt. 


145 


ifirnnce  of  dan- 
apful  of  wind, 
ich  the  hardest, 
come  forward, 
re,  that  will  do, 
nger-tea  befori 

the  billows  and 
lives.  A  surge 
II  of  water.  If 
lian  half  the  fish 

spot.  By  the 
3  out  the  water 
could  make  no 
tempt  to  propel 
eat  danger,  we 
c  kept  its  head 
ertion  that  was 
ic  sea,  to  "  hold 
;ing  any  farther 
ur  reaching  the 
lalf  its  violence, 
osphere  should 
ft. 

In  the  sublime 
ns  beat  and  the 

built  upon  the 
on  a  far  more 

lan  this.  Soon 
md  it  continued 
I  came  down  in 
I  fearfully  in  the 
ipon  a  midnight 
ohtnings  glared, 
he  billows,  you 
I  foot  from  your 
1  to  keep  baling 
iperfect  idea  of 
share  to  do  and 


To  add  to  the  terrors  of  the  scene,  there  came  booming 
to  us,  about  ten  o'clock,  that  terrific  note  of  distress,  the 
report  of  a  signal  cannon.  It  -^ma  fired,  as  I  afterward 
learned,  by  the  ship  which  had  assisted  to  lead  us  into  this 
dangerous  situation,  then,  in  the  attempt  to  make  a  harbour, 
stranded  r.mong  breakers  which,  before  the  sun  of  the 
next  moining  rose,  swept  her  and  her  whole  crew,  with 
the  exception  of  a  single  individual,  into  eternity.  It  is  very 
mournfn.l  any  where,  and  at  any  time,  to  listen  to  sounds 
which  attest  the  distress  and  agony  of  our  fellow-creatures 
—it  is  so  amidst  the  dying  on  the  field  of  battle,  or  the 
deck  of  a  ship,  as  I  know  from  experience,  for  I  have 
seen  both ;  but  far  more  terrific  and  appalling  is  the  sound 
of  a  signal  cannon,  heard  at  sea  in  the  pauses  of  amidnignt 
tempest.  I  cannot  loll  you  what  a  shuddering  it  creates  in 
your  whole  frame  as  it  comes  booming  through  the  «lark- 
ness.  I  can  have  no  conception  of  any  thing  to  ecjual  it 
for  solemn  and  awful  majesty.  The  first  clod  thrown  upon 
the  coffin  of  an  aged  man,  who  has  died  with  the  prospect 
of  a  happy  rising,  sends  a  thrill  of  awe  through  the  soul ; 
and  the  notes  of  a  muffled  drum  mourning  for  a  patriot 
warrior,  and  the  tolling  of  a  distant  bell  at  midnight, — fof 
instance,  a  convent  bell  among  the  mountains  of  Spain 
or  Italy, — have  much  sublimity  in  them ;  but  they  are 
nothing  compared  to  the  sound  which  travels  from  the 
"deep-throated"  cannon,  to  announce  the  scath  and  peril 
of  the  mariner.  I  have  heard  it  several  times,  may  I  never 
hear  it  again. 

But  the  Being  who  presides  over  the  elements,  and  gives 
to  the  life  of  man  its  metes  and  bounds,  preserved  us 
through  this  dreadful  night.  Towards  morning  the  thunder 
ceased,  though  it  still  continued  to  blow  hard,  and  the  rain 
to  pour  down  in  torrents.  The  wind  had  veered — north- 
wardly we  supposed,  for  the  sea  was  less  agitated  than  it 
had  been,  which  we  attributed  to  the  wind's  blowing  more 
directly  off  the  land.  Another  supposition,  and  one  having 
about  an  equal  chance  for  correctness  with  the  former, 
was,  that  we  had  drifted  under  the  lee  of  some  shoal  or 
ledge,  which  broke  the  force  of  the  wind,  and  hence  ope- 
rated to  produce  a  comparatively  quiet  condition  of  the 
waves. 

Vol.  1.-13 


^1^'^^**..^  _^ 


i 

I    t 


14G 


HAVERniLL. 


Wlien  daylight  came  we  could  discover  nothing  of  tlie 
land  we  had  left,  nor  were  nny  of  the  shoals  or  ledges, 
which  were  found  in  every  direction  for  near  thirty  miles 
from    the    shore,  visible  to  us.     Not  a  vessel  or  craft  of 
any  kind  was  in  sight  ;  with  the  exception  of  a  few  gannets, 
some  sea-fowl  plying  to  windward— ( "  Oh,"  said  James, 
if  we  only  had  thrir  wings,  my  brothers,  to  fly  back  to  o»ir 
friends,")  a  flock  of  birds  called  by  sailors  Mother  Carey's 
chickens,  and  a  shoal  of  unwieldy,  but  frolicsome  porpoises, 
we  were,  apparently,  alone   by  ourselves  on  the  ocean. 
Compass  wo  had  none  ;  but  we  supposed  ourselves  able 
to  judge  with  tolerable  correctness  of  the  bearing  of  tiic 
fishing  hamlet  from  the  aforesaid  supposed  shift  of  wind. 
and  from  our  knowledge   that,  on  the  coast  of  New- 
England,  the  wind  veering  from  north-cast,  northerly,  gen- 
erally abides  a  few  hours  at  some  point  between  north  by 
east  and  north-west.     IJut  this  knowledge,  grounded  on 
experience,  availed  us  nothing.     The  wind  still  blew  very 
hard ;  and  fatigue  had  so  impaired  our  .strength,  and  hunger 
had  so  weakened   us  for  labour,  that  we  could  not  have 
rowed  the  boat  against  it,  even  if  it  had  been  abated  of 
half  its  violence.     As  it  was,  I  saw  it  was  idle  to  make  any 
exertion  except  that  of  keeping  the  boat  free  from  water, 
and  using  our  eyes  to  see  if  succour  should  be  approaching 
in  the  shape  of  a  "  bark  of  hope."    The  day  passed  away 
in  vain  expectations  that  the  wind  would  shift,  so  as  to 
enable  us,  by  the  use  of  our  sail,  to  return  to  the  land  ;  or 
that  a  vessel  would  come  across  us,  and  take  us  on  board. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  second  night  we  slept  by  turns,  two  and  two,  for 
the  wind  gradually  went  down — in  the  beautiful  and  poeti- 
cal language  of  the  North  American  Indians, "  retired  to  his 
resting-place  in  the  caverns,  that  he  might  come  out 
refreshed  for  his  race  over  the  green  prairies  of  the  earth." 
In  the  course  of  the  night  the  clouds  dispersed,  and  the 


HAVERHILL. 


147 


(jlittcring  moon,  nnd  stars,  the  brightest  I  ever  saw,  caino 
Sut  from  behind  them.    TIjc  sun  of  the  tliird  day  rose, 
bright  and  glorious,  giving  pleasure  to  innumerable  myriads 
of  creatures  and  things,  but  none  to  us.     Instead  of  food 
for  hope,  or  cause  for  joy,  there  was  a  fresh  sorrow  added 
to  the  list  of  thoKC  which  were  already  bowing  us  to  the 
frravc.     It  was  obvious  that  our  brother,  Ji^hn,  was  fast 
jinking  into  the  arms  of  death.     He  had  not  been  able  for 
some  time  to  endure  much  hardshiji,  and  was  thought  by 
many  to  be  going  into  a  decline.     Our  father  thou^^ht  him 
unfit  to  meet  the  toils  of  a  day  of  common  exertion,  and 
opposed  his  coming  in  the  morning ;  how  much  more  was 
he  incapable  of  encountering  those  of  two  days  of  tempest 
and  exposure  such    as  we  had    encountered.      Still,  it 
was  only  in  his  face  that  wo  beheld  death  approaching. 
He  made  no  complaint'?,  asked  no  questions,  said  nothing 
about  home,  or  friends,  or  deliverance,  or  food,  or  water, 
subjects  vehich  occupied  the  others  continually,  but  showed 
a  kind  of  apathetical  indiflerence  to  his  fate.     By  throwing 
over  him  such  of  our  clothing  as  we  could  spare,  we  con- 
trived to  keep  off  some  of  the  wet  and  cold,  and,  as  far 
as  lodging  went,  to  make  him  tolerably  comfortable.    Had 
we  possessed  a  plentiful  supply  of  food  and  water,  we 
might,  perhaps,  have  kept  him  alive  for  some  days  longer. 
But  the  whole  quantity  of  victuals  we  had  taken  with  us 
would  scarce  have  sufficed  for  the  dinner  of  a  mi^n  oj 
ordinary  appetite ;  and  the  stock  of  rain-water  we  had 
saved  in  the  boat-bucket  was  speedily  very  low :— he  was 
dying  of  hunger  and  thirst. 

About  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  he  called  to  me  low 
and  plaintively.  "  Lynn !" 
"I  am  here,  my  brother,  at  your  side,"  I  answered. 
"  Are  we  at  home  V  asked  he. 
"  No,  John,"  I  answered. 

"  Hist !  yes  we  are,  I  am  sure.     There  !  I  hear  our 
mother's  voice,"  said  he,  very  faintly. 

"Oh  John,  that  cannot  be,"  said  I ;  "  why,  we  are  fitty, 

perhaps  a  hundred  miles  from  the  shore.    At  any  rate  we 

have  been  among  the  gulf  weed  for  hours,  and  that  you 

know  is  a  sure  sign  that  we  are  very  n*iar  the  Gulf  stream. 

"  I  can't  help  that,  my  brother ;  I  am  sure  1  heard  her 


\ 


^B J 1 

I^H 

u 

II 

II 

^ui 

mm 

148 


HAVERHILL. 


voice.  She  was  singing  that  beautiful  hymn  which  she 
loves  so  much  to  hear  you  sing,  and  which  you  sing  so 
well ;  for  your  voice,  you  know,  is  the  only  very  good  one 
in  the  family — 

"  Oh,  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ! 
Oh,  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  1" 

"  It  was  mere  fancy,  John,"  said  I,  nearly  choked  with 
tears. 

"  It  was  not  fancy,  Lynn ;  1  heard  her  as  plain  as  I  hear 
your  voice  now,  my  brother.  There  !  there  again  !  Oh, 
my  dear  mother !  if  I  could  only  lay  my  aching  head  upon 
your  bosom  !  And  hist !  there  is  father's  voice  too :  he  is 
calling  to  some  people  a  great  distance  off,  and  telling 
them  that  he  shall  be  with  them  by-and-by.  I  know  the 
meaning  of  it  now,  my  dear  brother :  I  am  going  to  die, 
and  these  sounds  are  the  forerunners  of  my  death.  Wake 
James  and  Timothy." 

James  and  Timothy  were  called,  and  to  them  he 
repeated  that  he  was  dying. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not,"  said  Timothy,  encouragingly.  "  You 
are  very  ill,  John,  and  think  very  much  abput  home,  and 
that  is  the  reason  why  you  fancy  you  hear  the  voices  of 
your  friends.  Cheer  up,  John ;  take  heart,  my  brother, 
and  we  will  have  many  a  merry  row  together  yet." 

"  Don't  speak  that  way,  Timothy,"  said  the  dying  boy, 
"don't  speak  that  way.  Other  thoughts  should  now 
occupy  my  mind,  and  I  think  yours, — thoughts  of  another 
world,  and  of  the  punishment  we  have  deserved  for  our 
sins.  Lynn,  do  you  think  there  is  hope  for  me  beyond  the 
grave  ?  Answer  me  ;  for  you  are  better  read  in  the  Bible 
than  I  am,  and  have  more  learning ; — is  there  any  hope 
for  your  poor  sinful  brother  ?" 

"  There  is  hope,  John,  for  all  who  repent  and  sincerely 
ask  forgiveness,"  answered  I.  "  Your  offences  have  been 
light  offences,  my  brother,  and  if  any  one  may  hope  to 
be  pardoned,  surely  it  is  you.  You  must  ask  God  to  for- 
give you,  and  it  is  my  belief  that  if  you  ask  in  sincerity  he 
will." 

"  But  do  you  know,  my  dear  brothers,  that  we  have 
not  prayed  since  thii  calamity  befel  us !" 


I 


HAVERIIILL. 


149 


r  choked  with 


to  them   he 


that  we  have 


"  It  is  indeed  true,"  said  James  ;  "  what  would  mother 
gay  if  she  knew  we  had  been  three  days  without  prayer  ? 
what  would  our  good  father  say  if  he  knew  that  we  had 
received  such  great  mercies  and  forgot  to  thank  the  giver 
of  them  ?    We  were  not  taught  this  neglect  in  our  father's 

house.'' 

«It  is  not  too  late  to  pray  yet,"  said  the  sutlerer. 
"  And  oh  I  now  !  quick  1  pray  quick,  for  I  feel  that  I  am 
going !  Pray  for  my  poor  soul,  and  pray  for  father  and 
mother,  and  Sally,  and  all  the  rest  of  them." 

We  knelt  down  in  the  boat  around  him,  and  I,  at  the 
request  of  my  brothers,  and  according  to  the  best  of  my 
ability,  offered  up  the  prayers  which  were  required  by  his 
lituation  and  ours.  When  1  had  finished,  he  asked  us  to 
sinw  the  beautiful  hymn  to  which  he  had  referred,  and 
which  went  in  our  house  by  the  nai^^e  of  "mother's 
favourite." 

"  Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame  ! 
Quit,  oh,  quit  this  mortal  frame  l 
Trembling,  hoping,  lingering,  flying, 
Oh  !  the  pain,  the  blisi  of  dying  ! 
Cease,  fond  nature,  cease  thy  strif», 
And  let  me  languish  into  life. 

"  Hark !  they  whisper ;  angels  say, 
'  Sister  spirit,  come  away.' 
What  is  this  absorbs  me  quite, 
Steals  my  senses,  shuts  my  sight. 
Drowns  my  spirit,  draws  my  breath, — 
Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this  be  death? 

"  The  world  recedes — it  disappears, 
Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes  '.  my  ears 
With  sounds  seraphic  ring : 
Lend,  lend  your  wings  1  1  mount !  I  fly  ! — 
Oh,  Grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  ? 
Oh,  Death  !  where  is  thy  sting  ?" 

While  we  were  singing  the  two  first  staneas  of  this 
hymn,  we  heard  occasionally  a  low  moan  from  him  ;  but 
during  the  last  he  was  perfectly  silent.  When  we  had 
finished  it,  James  raised  h-m  up  and  asked  him  "  how  he 
felt  now  ?" — he  spoke  to  a  lifeless  corpse. 

We  did  not  commit  him  to  the  ocean ;  but  with  the 

13* 


fi 


\ 


150 


HAVERHILL. 


H 


M' 


t  s 


hope  that  we  might  yet  be  permitted  to  inter  him  on  the 

land,  perhaps  in  the  old  mossy  churchyard  at ,  -we 

wrapped  np  his  remains  m  the  boat-sail,  and  laid  him  down 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

Nothing  now  remained  for  the  survivors  but  to  wait  pa- 
tiently the  appointed  time  for  our  deliverance  or  death.  In 
the  mean  time  we  grew  weaker  and  weaker  every  hour. 
Water  failed  us,  food  we  had  none,  and  worse  than  all,  there 
was  a  peevish  and  fault-finding  spirit  growing  upon  us,  as 
if  our  present  calamities  were  not  enough,  and  we  must 
increase  them,  by  a  sundering  of  the  bonds  which  had 
hitherto  held  us  in  more  tlian  brotherly  love  and  affection. 
My  brothers  upbraided  me  incessantly  with  having  brought 
them  into  this  dreadful  situation.  It  was  my  madness, 
they  said,  which  had  led  us  into  the  enterprise  which  must 
end  in  the  death  of  all.  For  a  long  time  I  bore  their  up- 
braidings  with  patience,  confessed  my  fault,  and  begged 
them  not  to  blame  me ;  but  wearied  out  at  length  by  them, 
and  my  resolution  to  avoid  discord  overborne  by  hunger 
and  thirst  and  excess  of  suffering,  I  answered  sharply  and 
angrily,  and  even  raised  my  hands  to  strike  poor  James. 
But  when  the  momentary  flash  of  anger  had  subsided, 
and  the  recollection  of  our  hitherto  unvarying  tender- 
ness returned  to  our  minds,  we  all  three  sat  down 
and  wept  like  children.  And  it  seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of 
our  departed  brother  smiled  upon  us,  and  that  even  tho 
winds  were  balmier,  and  waves  more  tranquil,  while  we 
embraced,  and  kissed  each  other,  and  took  a  solemn  oath, 
that  come  a  greater  degree  of  suffering  if  it  might,  or  look 
more  hideous  the  aspect  of  death  if  it  could,  we  would 
frown  no  more  on  each  other. 

The  fourth  day  passed,  and  still  no  succour.  The 
weather — there  is  a  well-known  proverb,  "  after  a  storm 
comes  a  calm," — was  remarkably  fair  and  serene ;  I  never 
saw  it  finer.  The  ocean  lay  slumbering  like  an  unweaned 
child,  the  breeze  merely  raising  a  slight  fretwork  on  its 
bosom.  To  add  to  my  other  afflictions,  it  was  apparent  the 
reason  of  my  brother  James  was  leaving  him.  He  insisted 
that  there  was  bread  and  meat  in  the  boat,  which  we  had 
liidden  from  him,  and  bade  us  produce  it ;  and  a  keg  of 


ir  him  on  the 

at ,  we 

laid  him  down 

ut  to  wait  pa- 
j  or  death.  In 
T  eveiy  hour, 
than  all,  there 
iig  upon  us,  as 
and  we  must 
Is  which  had 
and  affection, 
laving  brought 
my  madness, 
se  which  must 
bore  their  up- 
It,  and  begged 
2ngth  by  them, 
rne  by  hunger 
ed  sharply  and 
B  poor  James, 
had  subsided, 
irying  tender- 
ee  sat  down 
if  the  spirit  of 
that  even  the 
juil,  while  we 
a  solemn  oath, 
might,  or  look 
uld,  we  would 

uccour.  The 
"  after  a  storm 
irene ;  I  never 
s  an  unweaned 
etwork  on  its 
is  apparent  the 
1.  He  insisted 
which  we  had 
and  a  keg  of 


HAVERHILL. 


151 


cool  water,  which  he  said  we  were  towing  astern,  and  from 
which  we  had  repeatedly  slacked  our  own  thirst,  leaving 
him  to  perish  of  a  burning  fever  in  the  heart,  which  we 
knew  water  would  assuage.  We  could  not  reason  him 
out  of  the  strange  fancy,  lor  who  can  speak  with  effect  to 
the  understanding  of  a  madman  ?  Then  he  became  fear- 
fully angry,  and  tried  to  wrest  from  us  the  fancied  treasure. 
And  when  he  could  nowhere  find  it,  "  we  had  eaten  up 
the  victuals,  and  drank  the  water,"  he  said,  "  and  must 
forthwith  disembowel  them."  He  became  at  length  so 
dangerous,  that  to  prevent  him  from  doing  injury  to  hirnself 
or  to  us,  we  were  compelled  to  bind  him.  But  while  I 
dozed  in  a  momentary  oblivion  of  suffering,  his  tears  and 
entreaties,  aided  by  the  usual  protestations  of  perfect  sanity, 
so  won  upon  the  affectionate  heart  of  my  brother  Timothy 
that  he  unbound  liitn. 

I  was  waked  frcii  my  fitful  slumber  by  a  sound  like  that 
of  the  falling  of  a  heavy  body  upon  the  water.     It  was  my 
maniac  brother,  who,  while  his  liberator  slept,  caught  in 
his  arms  the  lifeless  body  of  my  brother  John,  and  plunged 
with  it  into  the  ocean.     We  asked,  pleaded  with  him  to  re- 
turn.   "  No,"  he  said,  "  he  would  go  on  shore,  and  bury 
Johnny.    He  had  been  dead  more  than  a  year,  the  weather 
was  very  warm,  he  wouldn't  keep,  and  the  flies  would  get  in 
his  body.     And  he  would  swim  on  shore,  and  see  how  they 
all  did,  and  kiss  mother  and  Sally,  and  get  some  fresh  bait, 
and  a  supply  of  water,  and  biscuit,  and  come  back  again." 
In  vain  we  tried  threats,  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to  re- 
linquish the  corpse,  but  continued  to  cling  to  it  with  all  his 
power.     Our  strength  was  so  impaired  that  we  could  not 
row  the  boat  so  fast  as  he,  now  gifted  with  supernatural  en- 
ergies, could  swim.     He  continued  shouting,  and  hurraing 
with  all  his  strength,  admonishing  us  to  keep  a  good  look  out, 
and  wait  for  him  where  we  then  were.     But  his  strength 
was  soon  exhausted.    We  saw  him  grow  weaker  and 
weaker,  at  first  in  his  lungs,  and  then  in  his  limbs,  till  at  last 
he  went  down  without  a  struggle.    He  sunk  when  we 
were  not  more  than  the  length  of  the  boat  from  him,  and 
continued  himself,  to  the  final  gasp,  the  custodier  of  the 
body  of  our  deceased  brother. 


^m 


"U 


T 


152 


HAVERHILL. 


b^l 


W\ 


There  were  now  only  two  of  us  left,  and  we  the  weak- 
est and  most  miserable  of  all  God's  creatures.  Our  feel- 
ings  now  began  to  rise  in  rebellion  against  the  Arbiter  of 
our  fates,  and  to  complain  that  he  had  been  partial  to  our 
brothers,  and  spared  them  the  greater  calamity.  ♦«  I  have 
frequently  heard  our  ministers  talk  of  election  and  predes- 
tination," said  Timothy.  "  Do  you  think,  Lynn,  that  God 
has  said  we  shall  die  for  food  and  water  ?  Oh,  how  beau- 
tiful it  would  be,  my  brother,  to  drink  out  of  the  old  moss- 
covered  bucket.  And  hov.  sweet  would  be  the  crusts 
which  the  old  dog — ."  He  could  proceed  no  further, 
but  burst  into  tears,  and  mine  flowed  as  freely  as  his. 

With  the  hope  rendered  yet  more  ardent  by  the  conversa- 
tion I  have  repeated  that  I  might  wake  in  some  world  where 
there  would  be  plenty  of  food  and  water,  I  lay  down  to 
sleep  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  leaving  Timothy  stretched 
out  upon  the  "  thwarts,"  watching  for  the  hoped-for  sail. 
Then,  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  home,  I  was  visited 
by  the  apparitions  of  memory.  I  saw,  as  plain  as  I  saw 
them  on  the  day  before  my  departure,  my  dear  father,  with 
his  locks  just  turning  to  silver,  and  the  sweet  face  of  my 
kind  mother,  the  former  seated  with  a  spy-glass  on  his 
wonted  observatory,  the  sand-hill,  the  latter  employed  in 
cooking  tho  evening  repast  of  the  family.  There  was  the 
old  larch,  and  beneath  it,  lovely  as  an  angel,  and  mild  as — 
herself,  my  beloved  and  lovely  Mary.  There  was  Sally 
playing  with  her  pet  lamb,  and  Michael  flying  his  kite. 
Then  there  came  a  more  general  view  of  the  scenes  of 
home.  I  saw  the  fishing  hamlet,  and  behind  it  the  lofty 
forests  of  oak  and  pine,  my  father's  cabin,  and  the  long 
deep  valley,  just  beginning  to  wear  the  green  livery  of 
spring.  And,  oh  !  unutterable  bliss !  there  was  the  clear, 
cold  brook  in  the  middle  of  it,  gurgling,  and  bubbling,  and 
dancing  along  through  its  fringe  of  alders  and  grape-vines, 
noisy  as  a  healthful  child  of  ten,  released  from  a  prolonged 
attendance  on  the  village  schoolmaster.  Its  water  was  a 
treat  at  any  time,  how  much  more  now  when  I  was  dy- 
ing of  thirst.  And  it  wag  fretting  noisily  away  over  its 
bed  of  pebbles,  as  if  it  too  had  cause  of  grief.  And 
Mary !  dear  Mary !  there  were  the  stile,  and  the  bridge, 


^r 


HAVERHILL. 


153 


and  the  ant-hill,  and  she  was  again  the  patient  teacher,  and 
I  the  attentive  and  happy  school-boy. 

But  the  most  blissful  dream,  even  the  dream  of  life,  the 
dream  of  ambition,  and  that  yet  dearer  dream,  the  dream 
of  love,  must  have  an  end,  and  so  had  mine.    When  I 
awoke,  the  sun  was  just  setting,  his  beams  shading  the 
white  folds  of  th^  western  sky  with  a  veil  of  purple  and  gold. 
When  I  had  shaken  off  the  stupor  which  attends  the  wak- 
inff  from  a  sickly  sleep,  and  had  recovered  the  use  of  my 
dimmed  and  dizzied  faculties,  I  found  myself  alone.  It  was 
some  minutes  before  I  could  convince  myself  of  the  fact. 
I  know  not— never  shall  know  what  became  of  my  brother 
Timothy.     He  was  of  a  rugged  constitution,  and  had  sup- 
ported the  miseries,  and  borne  up  against  the  horrors  of 
our  situation  much  better  than  the  other  brothers,  always 
appearing  patient  and  collected,  never  giving  way  to  use- 
less regrets,  nor  indulging  in  gloomy  anticipations.     Ihe 
only  reasonable  guess  to  be  made  at  his  late,  short  of  ac- 
countinfr  for  his  disappearance  upon  the  doctrine  of  direct 
supernalural  interference,  is,  that   he  became   suddenly 
insane,  like  James,  and,  Uke  him,  perished  by  his  own  deed 

in  the  ocean.  t  i.  j  iv*i 

I  felt  my  strength  decaying  so  fast  that  I  had  little  ex- 
pectation  of  living  through  the  night.     It  came  a  beautiful 
evening,  the  stars  shone  out  clear  and  twinkling,  the  moon 
rose  bright  and  round,  and  there  was  a  gentle  breeze  to 
aladden  the  heart  of  him  who  might  be  traversing  that 
fatitude  of  ocean  to  the   arms  of  "wife,  children,  and 
friends."     About  midnight,  as  I  judged  from  the  height  ot 
the  moon,  I  heard  a  voice,  which  seemed  that  of  a  sailor 
answering  to  the  call  of  a  superior,  and  soon  after,  a  sound 
like  the  music  of  a  violin  stealing  across  the  lonely  waste 
of  waters.     I  even  fancied  I  could  distinguish  the  notes 
of  "  Hearts  of  Oak,"  the  tune  which  has  preluded  so  many 
fflorious  triumphs  of  the  British  marine.     At  first  I  thought 
ft  all  sheer  illusion,  the  mere  reelings  of  a  brain  about  to 
be  forsaken  of  its  reason,  seeing  strange  sights  and  hearing 
strange  noises,  as  my  brotlier  James  had  done  at  the  com- 
ing on  of  his  insanity.     Gradually  the  music  approached, 
and  the  voices  grew  articulate.     I  could  hear  the  shrill 
call  of  the  boatswain's  mate,  and  the  commands  of  the 


154 


HAVERHILL. 


I 


^ni 

IH 

^^^^^^K  M  'm 

-  w^^^^l 

^^^^^^HS      ^ 

^bII 

in 

lU 

« 

■HM 

ffiH 

^^hh 

^^ 

^^H 

mi 

master,  "  lower  away !"  "  A  small  pull  more  on  the  star- 
board fore-topsail  brace  !"  "  There  !  that's  well !  belay 
that !"  and  the  gruff  "  ay,  ay,  sir !"  of  the  tar.  I  raised 
myself  with  difficulty,  for  I  was  every  moment  growing 
weaker,  and  there — close  by — within  ten  rods  of  me— 
oh,  glorious  sight ! — oh,  supreme  felicity  ! — was  a  tall  ship, 
moving  majestically  past,  her  white  sails  shining  in  the 
silver  moonlight, — three  tiers  of  guns, — yards,  tops,  and 
shrouds  black  with  men, — a  creature  she  seemed  of  beauty 
and  glory.  Suffering  had  dimmed  my  eyes  very  much, 
but  I  could  plainly  see  that  she  was  a  very  large  man-of- 
war,  with  all  her  sails,  even  to  the  smallest,  crowded  upon 
her.  She  was  not  at  the  time  more  than  ten  rods  from 
me.  1  hallooed  with  all  my  strength,  and  shouted  "  help ! 
help  !"  at  the  top  of  a  pair  of  lungs  which  used  to  have 
high  praise  bestowed  upon  them  for  their  efficiency  in  that 
kind  of  exercise,  but  were  now  graduated  to  a  much 
i  )wer  key. 

Having  ceased  shouting  for  the  purpose  of  listening,  I 
heard  from  a  man  in  the  main-chains,  the  exclamation— 
"A  man  overboard !" 

"  There  is,"  replied  a  hoarse  harsh  voice ;  "  and  what 
business  had  he  there,  I  wan't  to  know  ?" 

"Can't  exactly  tell,  sir;  fun,  maybe;  but  here's  Dick 
says  'tis  the  Yankee  greenhorn,  from  No.  5,  gone  to  look 
for  one  of  his  granny's  apple-dumplings.  Shall  we 
lower  away  the  boat,  or  let  the  sharks  have  him  ?  How- 
somever,  sir,  they  never  will  eat  him ;  too  cunning  a  fellow 
is  Mr.  Shark  for  that." 

The  boat  was  lowered,  and  before  three  minutes  had 
passed,  I  and  my  "  three-decker,"  as  the  tars  called  my 
boat,  were  taken  alongside. 

"  Shall  I  hide  the  handspikes,  and  the  marline-spikes,  and 
the  crow,  and  the  spare  scrapers  ?"  asked  a  voice  which  I 
knew  to  be  that  of  the  sailor  addressed  as  "  Jo." 

"  Why,  Jo?"  asked  the  gruff  voice. 

"  Because,  sir,  I  take  him  to  be  a  very  hungry  man,  and 
a  little  flared  into  the  bargain.  His  first  push,  barring 
water,  will  be  for  something  to  cat  V 

"  True,  Jo ;  but  he  must  be  kc;jl  short  at  first.    Ay,  Jo, 


davehiiill. 


155 


he  must  be  put  upon  very  short  allowance  for  the  first 

week* 

"  Make  it  up,  sir,  by  the  rule  which  governB  the  ship's 
steward,  and  I'll  be  bound  to  say  he  never  comes  to  harm." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?" 

"  Do  that,  and  he  will  never  come  to  harm  by  reason  of 
(3ver-eating." 

"  How  is  that,  Jo  V 

"  Come  to  the  mess,  sir,  when  the  bell  rings  grub,  and 
you'll  see,  sir." 

Jo  was  one  of  those  happy  beings  who  are  favourites, 
and  may  say  any  thing. 

The  'due  orders  were  taken  for  my  being  fed  sparingly 
on  light  food,  and  put  to  bed  and  undisturbed  rest.  Be- 
hold me,  then,  roscued  from  the  grave,  which  had  swal- 
lowed up  my  three  poor  hapless  brothers. 


4 


m 


m 


4 


) ;  "  and  what 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  NIGHT  of  peaceful  and  undisturbed  sleep  did  much  to 
restore  my  strength  and  energy.  Soon  after  I  woke,  which 
was  late  in  the  morning,  the  doctor's  assistant  came  with 
some  food  adapted  to  my  present  condition — buttered  bis- 
cuits, a  roasted  apple,  &c.  Shall  I  ever  again  know  grati- 
tude so  strong  and  lively  as  that  which  I  felt  to  him  who 
brought  me  these  delightful  presents  ? 

My  recollection  of  past  events  was  then,  and  for  some 
days  after,  rather  indistinct  and  confused.  Besides,  I  was 
too  much  engrossed  by  the  delicacies  he  had  brought  me 
to  waste  any  time  in  questions  upon  the  "  whys  and  where- 
abouts" of  my  present  situation.  Every  thing  else  faded 
from  my  mind  till  these  had  vanished  from  before  my  eyes. 
A  few  minutes  enabled  me  to  recover  my  memory  suffi- 
ciently to  fix  my  "  locality"  on  board  a  man-of-war.  I 
recollected  sundry  scenes  which  occurred  on  the  pre- 
ceding evening ;  and,  besides,  there  was  present  demon- 
stration of  the  fact,  in  the  heavy  piece  of  ordnance  a  few 


156 


HAVERHILL. 


feet  from  me,  to  say  nothing  of  the  noises  which  assailed 
my  ears.  The  martial  character  of  the  vessel  was  further 
proclaimed  by  the  muskets,  cutlasses,  and  boarding-pikes 
which  lined  the  sides  of  the  cabin,  and  the  heaps  of  lan- 
grage,  chain-shot,  and  grape-shot  piled  up  in  its  corners. 

About  one  o'clock  1  received  a  message  from  the  com- 
mander of  the  ship,  requiring  my  attendance  in  the  cabin. 
I  should  have  remarked  that,  previous  to  this,  the  barber 
had  been  sent  me,  as  well  as  clean  linen,  and  a  decent 
change  of  apparel.  The  man  of  suds  had  but  just  made 
me  "  presentable,"  when  a  tall  and  elegant  young  man, 
wearing  a  military  dress,  came  in,  and  announced  himself 
as  "  Colonel  Matthewman,  aid  to  the  commander-in- 
chief," — of  what,  I  had  yet  to  learn.  He  requested  to  hear 
my  story,  which  I  told  him  briefly.  He  then  said  he  was 
directed,  when  four  bells  in  the  afternoon  watch  should 
have  rung,*  to  bring  me  before  two  important  personages, 
the  admiral  commanding  the  fleet,  and  the  general-in- 
chief  of  the  land  forces. 

"  I  thought  it  but  kind  and  friendly,"  said  he,  "  to  antici- 
pate a  part  of  their  information,  and  tell  you  into  whose 
hands  you  have  fallen,  and  into  whose  presence  you  are 
about  to  be  ushered.  The  ship  which  came  so  opportunely 
to  your  relief,  and  on  board  of  which  you  now  are,  is  the 
Neptune,  of  ninety  guns  ;  and  a  bird  of  paradise  she  is. 
She  bears  the  flag  of  Sir  Charles  Saunders,  vice-admiral 
of  the  blue,  and  forms  one  of  a  fleet  which,  God  willing, 
shall  beat  the  monsieurs  till  they  are  tired  of  living.  Only 
think  of  the  sport !  Twenty  one  suit  of  the  line,  besides 
frigates,  sloops,  bomb-ketches,  fire-ships,  troop-ships,  horse- 
ships,  ordnance-ships,  forage-ships,  and  every  other  kind 
of  ship,  well  appointed,  well  provisioned,  well  manned, 
well  armed,  and  with  the  best  inclination  in  the  world  to 
do  their  best — a  more  goodly  array  you  never  saw." 

"  And  what  is  the  object  of  this  mighty  armament  ?"  I 
asked. 

"  The  object  of  this  mighty  armament  is  this.  First,  we 
rendezvous  at  Louisburg ;  then,  we  ascend  the  river  St. 
Lawrence,  and  level  with  the  earth  those  troublesome  com- 


*  Two  o'clock  in  tho  afternoon. 


.11 


HATERHILL. 


157 


positions  of  stone  and  mortar,  the  walls  of  Quebec.  Then 
we  shall  proceed  to  practise  upon  the  nunneries,  to  whose 
fair  inmates  we  shall  offer  love  and  liberty.  Having  played 
the  de'il  with  every  thing  French  on  the  North  American 
continent,  we — that  is,  those  of  us  who  escape  with  whole 
skins  from  the  escalade  of  the  far-famed  Heights  of  Abra- 
ham, shall  return  to  our  dear  England,  and  be  gazetted  as 
'the  immortal  men  whose  courage  and  daring  have 
achieved  the  conquest  of  tiie  French  possessions  in  North 
America.'  Then  we  shall  go  to  the  levee,  and  kiss  the 
king's  hand ;  return  home,  and  kiss — the  ladies'  lips ;  think, 
how  delightful !  and  wear  all  sorts  of  favours,  from  the 
blue  riband  of  knighthood  and  chivalry  to  the  blue  riband 
of  love  and  gallantry." 

"  Hopes  that  make  the  heart  flutter,"  said  I :  "  would 
that  any  of  thsm  were  within  my  reach  !" 

"Now — but  1  wo'n't  swear,  if  I  am  'swearing  Jack 
Matthewman.'  You  are  either  quizzing  me,  or,  you  are  a 
—blockhead.  Little  chance !  why,  what  bars  your 
becoming  lord  high  admiral,  field-marshal — anything  but 
king  or  one  of  the  royal  dukes,  save  lack  of  courage  and 
lack  of  conduct  ?" 

"  I  know  nobody  ;  nobody  knows  me.  I  am  nothing, 
yoa  know,  but  a  poor  castaway — a  shipwrecked  sailor, 
without  money  or  friends." 

"  Not  so :  and  now  for  a  little  flattery.  You  have  a 
face  which,  put  a  little  of  my — fine  complexion  upon  it, 
the  red  and  white  which  belongs  to  'handsome  Jack,' 
would  be  called  a  very  decent  one  ;  and  you  have  far  more 
of  the  air  of  a  courtier  than  of  a  fisherman.  The  ver/ 
circumstance  of  your  shipwreck,  and  wonderful  preserva- 
tion, have  already  operated  so  much  in  your  favour,  that 
the  deck  is  crowded  in  anticipation  of  your  showing  your- 
self. Twenty  letters  of  recommendation  would  not  avail 
in  your  behalf  like  tlie  circumstances  from  which  you 
augur  ill." 
"  I  cannot  gather  courage  to  think  so,"  said  I. 
"  You  have  a  strong  inclination,  I  see,  to  get  up  a  tragedy. 
But  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear  sir,  for  my  levity.  \''ou 
have  lately  witnessed  a  most  affecting  scene :  you  have 
seen  three  brothers  perish  bofore  your  eyes ;  and  here  am 
Vol.  1.-14 


1,1 

I 


158 


HAVERHILL. 


I,  talking  to  you  as  if  you  were  as  little  acquainted  with 
trouble  as  Jack  Matthcwman,  who  had  never  heard  of  the 
worJ  ^'.  J 1  ow  but  for  his  Irisli  servant  Thaddy ;  and  who, 
tiianUs  to  iha  kind  old  uncle,  was  never  short  of  money  in 
his  life.  1  am  known  by  all  the  army  as  '  Merry  Jack,'  or 
*  Swearing  Jack ;'  sometimes,  spare  my  blushes,  simply  as 
'Handsoine  Jack,'— was  never  serious  in  my  life  till  now, 
and  never  before  spoke  tiie  same  number  of  words  without 

an  oath." 

"  Do  not  p'  t  any  constraint  on  your  feelings,  on  my  ac- 
count, sir,"  said  I.  "  Be  as  merry  as  you  please,  though  1 
see  no  occasion  for  profanity :  but  tell  me  if  you  think  that 
my  offer  to  serve  in  the  army  will  be  accepted  ;  and  that, 
if  accepted,  I  shall  be  in  the  way  of  promotion,  if  I  de- 
serve it." 

•♦  What  will  you  risk?" 

"  Blood,  as  if  it  were  water— life,  as  freely  as  I  would 
a  farthing  at  a  game  of  draughts." 

"  Then  you  arc  sure  to  rise — or  fall.     Now, me, 

I  like  you  (his  eye  became  lucid  with  depth  of  feeling) ; 
and  I'll  be  your  friend.  It  shall  be  my  special  care  to  see 
that  you  have  a  place  in  the  hottest  Oi  every  battle  :  you 
shall  be  in  every  forlorn  hope  ;  it  shall  even  go  hard  but 
you  shall  lead  one- a  second,  perhaps,  if  you  survive  the 
first.  I  will  name  you  to  the  general  properly.  By-the- 
by,  join  the  army,  d--cusc,— see  the  small  difference  be- 
tween a  damn  and  a  dcuse,— take  the  navy ;  between 
friends,  'tis  the  land-fight  that  makes  the  hero.  As  I  said, 
you  shall  be  properly  named  to  the  general ;  and  if  you 
conduct  yourself  well,  depend  upon  my  word  that,  between 
us  and  among  us,  we'll  yet  make  a  Boanerges— a  true  son 
of  thunder  of  you.  Hark  !  the  four  bells :  no,  but  they 
will  ring  within  five  minutes.  We  will  first  take  a  look 
at  the  feet,  and  then  make  our  bow.  I  will  not  give  you 
any  directions  fi)r  your  behaviour  when  you  shall  have 
been  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  magnates  ;  for  I  am 
sure,  from  your  speech,  which  seems  that  of  a  well-edu- 
cated lad,  and  your  bearing,  which  smacks— 1  shall  cer- 
tainly spoil  you— of  a  natural  propriety  of  demeanour  and 
carriage,  that  you  will  acquit  yourself  like  a  man.  Be  firm, 
yet  modest— tell  a  simple  straight-forward  story ;  make 


quainted  with 
r  heard  of  the 
ly ;  and  who, 
of  money  in 
erry  Jack/  or 
hes,  simply  as 
y  hfc  till  now, 
words  without 

igs,  on  my  ac- 
cuse, though  1 
you  think  that 
ed  ;  and  that, 
)tion,  if  I  de- 


2]y  as  I  would 


low, 


me, 


,h  of  feeling) ; 
;ial  care  to  see 
'y  battle  :  you 
n  go  hard  but 
ou  survive  the 
erly.     By-the- 

difference  he- 
avy ;  between 
ro.  As  I  said, 
al ;  and  if  you 
i  that,  between 
ros — a  true  son 
1 :  no,  but  they 
'St  take  a  look 
ill  not  give  you 
you  shall  have 
lates  ;  for  I  am 

of  a  well-edu- 
s — 1  shall  cer- 
demcanour  and 
man.  Be  firm, 
d  story ;  make 


nAVEnini.L. 


159 


respectful,  yet  collected  answers  to  the  questiofis  which 
will  be  put  you ;  above  all,  say  nothing  about  a  shark's 
swallowing  a  thirty-two  pound  carronado  ;  for  it  was  de- 
huted  yesterday  at  the  dinner-table,  and  notwithstanding 
all  my  arguments  and  j.rotestations,  which  go  a  great  way 
where  veracity  is  concerned,  that  my  own  eyes  saw  it ; 
the  general  says  he  don't  believe  a  syllabic  of  it.  Don't 
utter  one  wicked  word,  for  the  general  is  a  pious  man — 
not  a  Methutlist,  but  rather  ^'•ooi//.s7/.  If  you  do  thus,  you 
will  be  favourably  received ;  for,  when  did  conduct  like, 
this  ever  fiiil  to  secure  friends  1" 

We  now  ascended  to  the  upper  deck.  What  he  had 
anticipatof!  proved  literally  true,  for  the  jiassagcs  were 
thronged  with  men  of  all  grades  and  habit-,  anxious  to 
obtain  a  glance  of  the  "  castaway." 

Jumping  upon  a  gun,  my  conductor  bade  me  do  the  like, 
and  take  a  look  at  the  armament  prepared  for  the  over- 
throw of  the  Frenchmen.  "  These  noble  ships,  so  conspi- 
cuous by  their  teeth,"  said  he,  "  arc  to  whip  the  'tarnation 
fellows,  as  they  say  in  your  country,  if  we  catch  them  on 
the  water.  Those  heavy-moulded,  Swift-Peter  things, 
the  transports,  contain  five  thousand  as  fip  j  fellows  as  ever 
bivouacked  on  a  won  field,  or  sln^t  in  the  arms  of  death 
upon  a  lost  one,  and  these  last  aic  to  engage  in  an  enter- 
prise wherein  we  shall  be  happy  (making  a  half  quizzical 
bow)  to  have  your  assistance." 

"And  you  shall  have  it,  heart  and  hand,"  I  replied,  my 
bosom  burning  with  enthusiasm,  awakened  by  the  glorious 
armament  of  war  which  met  my  eyes  whithersoever  I 
turned  them.  "  My  only  fear  was,  that  my  services  would 
not  be  accepted." 

It  was  indeed  a  splendid  sight  to  look  upon  this  vast  fleet 
spread  over  the  ocean  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  The 
morning  was  very  fine,  with  a  light  breeze  at  south-west, 
just  enor  \\  to  give  the  ships  headway,  and  to  authorize 
the  use  ol  those  little  sails,  such  as  studdingsails,  staysails, 
skysails,  &c.  which  give  so  much  effect  to  a  marine  land- 
scape, and  are  to  a  ship  what  bonnets,  ribands,  scarfs,  and 
diamonds  are  to  a  beautiful  woman.  There  were,  alto- 
gether, more  than  a  hundred  all  sailing  upon  one  course, 
an^.fvith  numerous  flags  and  streamers  fluttering  in  the 


^1 


^1 


'^M|ft)TI)g"" 


% 


160 


nAVERlIILL. 


breeze.    It  would  seem,  at  first  thouglit,  as  if  there  could 
not  be  much  variety  in  such  a  scene— a  fleet  of  ships  is  a 
fleet  of  ships  ;  but  I  beg  to  assure  the  reader  that  there 
was  an  infinite  "  diversity  of  character,"  a  strikirfg  dissimi- 
larity of  appearance  in  the  vessels  of  which  this  pailant 
armada  was  composed.     In  the  first  place,  it  must  be  re- 
membered  that  Great  Britain  had  been  engaged  in  fre- 
quent  wars  with  France,  Spain,  and  Holland,  and  that  the 
consequence  of  her  frequent  naval  encounters  with  these 
powers,  over  whom  she  was  always  victorious,  had  been 
to  introduce  into  her  marine  many  a  specimen  of  the  archi- 
tecture of  each.     Here  you  saw  the  heavy,  sleepy,  dull- 
sailing,  low-masted,  and  short-sparred   Dutchman,  built 
perhaps  in  the  very  dock-yard    where  Peter  the  Great 
learned  to  handle  the  adze,  and  modelled  after  the  wives  of 
the  Dutch  skippers,  short,  pursy,  and  full  in  the  bow,  heavily 
timbered,  and  strongly  put  together.     This  was  compelled 
to  pack  on  all  sail  to  keep  up  with  the  long-masted,  long- 
sparred,  "  all-a-tanto"  bark  of  French  construction,  which, 
under  its  courses  and  topsails,  mizen  and  flying-jib,  swept 
along  by  Mynheer  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a  Parisian 
dancmg  girl  performing  a  rigadoon,  or,  to  use  a  figure  of 
my  gay  friend  the  colonel,  like  a  French  racer  going  past 
a  Flemish  cart-horse.    A  little  way  further,  you  recognized 
the  "  Don,"  whose  motions  in  the  water  were  neither  like 
the  plunge  of  the  Dutchman  nor  the  "  curvet"  of  the  Gaul, 
— to  your  eye,  it  seemed  that  the  dignity  and  stateliness  of 
its  former  possessors  had  remained  with  the  ship  at  the 
change  of  masters.     Next,  and  of  this  description  was  the 
bulk  of  the  fleet,  came— apt  emblem  of  the  builder— plain, 
substantial,  "  salted,"  docked,  and  seasoned  John  Bull,  kind 
in  a  squall,  and  easily  managed  by  one  that  knew  how  to 
trim  him ;  tough  as  a  pine-knot,  "  hooks"  and  "  riders,"  ribs 
and  transoms,  hard  as  lignum-vita? ;  put  together  with  great 
strength,  and  for  great  durability  ;  no  "  clipper,"  but  en- 
dowed with  capacity  to  stand  tempests  and  hard  knocks, 
which  would  have  utterly  annihilated  the  lively  but  fragile 
Gaul.    The  specimens  of  the  marine  architecture  of  the 
colonies  were  in  the  rear  of  the  fleet,  in  the  shape  of  some 
ships,  barques,  brigs,  and  schooners,  of  the  true  Casco  Bay 
and  Saco  model  and  rig:  built,  probably,  six  together, 


HiiVEIiniLL. 


161 


gawcd  apart,  their  ciuls  honrded  up,  and  then  the  nonde- 
scripts cunnnitted  to  the  ocean,  relying  principally  upon  a 
|)rayer  to  merciful  heaven  to  enable  them  to  reach  the 
des'tincd  port. 

Nor  was  the  diversity  alone  to  bo  seen  in  the  built.  A 
thousand  other  circumstances  gave  variety  to  the  scene, 
and  individuality  to  the  ships  which  went  to  form  it.  This 
one  had  yellow  streaks  and  mouldings,  that  white  or  red, 
or  bright  varnish.  The  sails  of  one  were  of  now  canvass, 
of  course  they  were  dark,  those  of  its  next  neighbour  were 
bleached  by  exposure  till  they  were  white  as  snow.  In 
some  there 'was  as  much  "light  and  shade"  ns  there  is  in 
one  of  Titian's  pictures,  occasioned  by  mending  rents 
in  the  old  sail  with  new  canvass.  The  topsails  of  this 
siiip  hung  in  the  buntlines  and  clewlines,  or  her  courses 
were  hauled  up,  while  the  next  had  every  inch  of  canvass 
packed  on  her.  Th:  yards  and  shrouds  of  one  were  black 
with  men  aloft  on  the  usual  duties,  while  only  a  solitary 
individual  would  seem  to  be  stirring  on  board  another.  It 
was,  indeed,  a  diversified  as  well  as  abcautiful  scene.  Prob- 
ably  I  shall  never  in  this  world  behold  again  any  thing  so 
imposing  and  magnificent. 

Around  us  the  play  of  the  fislies  was  going  on  with  unu- 
sua!  liveliness.  An  immense  school  of  porpoises  were  cut- 
ting their  capers  among  the  ships,  and  a  school  of  whales, 
of  the  species  called  finbacks,  were  playing  shy  at  a  small 
distance  to  windward.  Half  a  dozen  shovel-nosed  sharks, 
or  "lawyers,"  were  following  our  own  ship,  and  snapping 
up  the  various  eatables  thrown  them  as  eagerly  as  a  bar- 
rister runs  up  the  items  in  a  bill  of  costs. 

"Is  it  not  beautiful !"  asked  the  colonel ; "  and  may  not  the 
enthusiasm  of  a  tar  be  pardoned  ?  Sometimes— in  pleasant 
weather,  I  say  to  myself,  '  Jack  Matthewman,  you  are  a 
great  fool ;  you  have  chosen  by  far  the  less  pleasant  branch 
of  the  throat-cutting  trade.'  But  when  a  squall  comes  up, 
and  the  rigging  parts,  and  the  sails  fly  out  of  the  bolt-rope, 
and  the  water  rushes  in  at  the  lee  gunv/alc,  and  crack  goes 
a  spar,  and  the  captain  rages,  and  the  master  rages,  and 
Jack  rages,  and  the  wind  out-rages  them  all,  I  forget  my 
temporary  enthusiasm,  and  say,  '  Colonel  Matthewman, 
stick  to  the  land  service,  my  boy,  and  be  after  letting  the 

11* 


n 


I( 


\,l 


a 


\y^ 


162 


HAVERHILL. 


wicked  ships  alone.'    I  can  see,  by  your  eye,  that  you  are 
smitten  with  the  charms  of  my  mistress." 

"  1  am  better  acquainted  with  the  hardships  attending 
exposure  at  sea,  and,  probably,  that  is  the  reason  why  my 
mind  is  made  up  to  be  a  soldier." 

"Undoubtedly  we  fear  less  the  miseries  which  have 
come  to  us  by  hearsay  than  those  with  whose  bitterness  we 
are  practically  acquainted.  If  a  burglar  who  has  been 
hung  were  to  be  reanimated,  and  ordered  for  execution 
again,  he  would,  probably,  choose  to  be  drowned  or  be- 
headed ;  sure  I  am  that  he  would  eschew  the  gallows. 
You  have  fared  hard  upon  the  water,  you  prefer  the  land 
service.  I  know  nothing  of  the  ocean,  save  from  passages 
which — with  two  exceptions— for  a  short  period,  have 
been  exceedingly  pleasant.  My  service  upon  the  land  has 
been  under  the  burning  suns  of  India  and  Africa ;  and 
amid  polar  snows,  I  should  prefer  the  ocean.  But  before 
we  enter  the  cabin,  I  must  make  you  acquainted  with  the 
first  lieutenant  of  the  ship,  and  a  very  sociable,  pleasant, 
companionable  fellow  you  will  find  him — a  little  too  gay 
and  talkative,  but  nobody  minds  that !" 

He  made  a  sign  to  a  young  man  in  "  lilywhites,"  and  a 
round  jacket  with  cloth  buttons,— uniforms  were  then  very 
uncommon  in  the  navy,  and  when  they  were  worn  were 
entirely  without  the  ease  and  elegance  of  the  modern  naval 
dress.     The  person  came  to  us  and  was  introduced,  by  the 
gay  soldier,  as  "  Commodore  Jervis."     He  has  since,  1  hear, 
become  rather  distinguished,  and  fought  that  fine  old  ship 
the  Foudroyant  in  the  action  which  ended  in  a  court-mar- 
tial upon  Keppel,  and,  worse  yet,  in  a  paper  war  between 
him  and  Hugli  Palliscr,  in  very  handsome  style.     He  en- 
joyed, even  at  this  time,  the  reputation  of  being  ?n  excel- 
lent seaman ;  and  for  this,  among  other  reasons,  had  been 
selected   by  that  excellent  judge   and  patron  of  merit, 
Admiral,  then  Captain,  Saunders,  as  early  as  1755,  to  fill 
the  station  of  first  lieutenant  on  board  his  own  ship  the 
Prince.     He  had  continued  with  Sir  Charles  ever  since. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  reserved,haughty,and  arrogant  men 
I  ever  saw,  and  one  of  the  strictest  disciplinarians— so  his 
friends  said,  but  his  enemies  asserted,  one  of  the  most  cruel 
tyrants — that  e^^er  set  foot  on  the  deck  of  a  ship.    As  he 


HAVERHILL. 


163 


I,  that  you  are 

lips  attending 
lason  why  my 

s  which  have 
!  bitterness  we 
ivho  has  been 
for  execution 
rowned  or  be- 
V  the  gallows, 
(refer  the  land 
from  passages 
t  period,  have 
3n  the  land  has 
d  Africa ;  and 
I.  But  before 
linted  with  the 
iable,  pleasant, 
little  too  gay 

whites,"  and  a 
A-ere  then  very 
ire  worn  were 
3  modern  naval 
oduced,  bv  the 
js  since,  1  hear, 
It  fine  old  ship 
in  a  court-mar- 
r  war  between 
style.     He  en- 
being  en  excel- 
isons,  had  been 
tron  of  merit, 
as  1755,  to  fill 
1  own   ship  the 
rles  ever  since, 
id  arrogant  men 
inarians — so  his 
f  the  most  cruel 
a  ship.    As  he 


was  acting  in  a  subordinate  station  to  one  of  the  kindest 
and  most  compassionate  men  that  ever  existed,  I  had  no 
opportunity  during  the  short  time  I  was  in  his  company  to 
remark  which  party  had  formed  the  truer  estimate  of  his 
character,  his  friends  or  his  foes.  But,  though  stern  and 
arrogant,  his  manners  were  good,  and  denoted  high  aris- 
tocratic birth  as  well  as  high  notions  of  honour. 

«  And  what  do  you  think  of  him  V  demanded  the  gay 
and  sprightly  soldier,  as  he  spoke  seizing  a  button,  and,  by 
twitches,  turning  him  in  various  positions  as  one  shows  a 
horse  to  a  would-be  purchaser.  "  There  he  is,  and  now 
what  do  you  think  of  him  1  Twenty-five  years  old  was 
he  sometime  in  the  month  of  Janus  last— prithee  tell  me 

the  day,  John  ?"  .      . ,    , 

« I  am  sorry.  Colonel  Matthewman,"  said  the  young 
sailor,  with  imperturbable  gravity,  "that  you  cannot  find 
another  and  fitter  person  upon  whom  to  break  the  lance 

of  your  wit." 
«  How  can  I  possibly  find  a  better  subject  to  cut  up  than 

an  oyster  ?" 

"  An  oyster  !  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

«  An  oyster  is  remarkable  for  its  gravity— 'grave  as  an 
oyster,'  saith  the  proverb— John  Jervis  is  wonderfully 
grave,  therefore  he  is  an  oyster— by  no  means  a  bad  syllo- 
gism. Look  at  him,  Haverhill !  '  The  king  is  angry,  see, 
he  gnaws  his  lip.' " 

«  Really,  Colonel  Matthewman,your  bantering  takes  too 

wide  a  range." 

"  Note  down,  Haverhill,  in  your  pocketbook,  as  an  oc- 
currence to  be  boasted  of  as  long  as  you  live,  that  at  such 

an  hour,  upon  such  a  day,  in  the  latitude  of ,  and  the 

longitude  of ,  canny  Fortune  conducted  you  to  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  pleasant  and  sociable  John  Jervis,  son 
of  Swynfen  Jervis,  a  worthy  old  StaflTordshire  barrister. 
Addendum,  that  the  said  John  was  never  known  to  laugh 
but  once,  and  that  was  at  the  strange  contortions  which 
the  eating  of  sour  grapes,  some  say  green  thistles,  occa- 
sioned in  the  fiice  of  an  ass.  Ding  dong!  ding  dong !  by 
all  that  is  merry,  there  go  the  four  bells.  Good-by  to  you, 
pleasant  John  !  and  now,  Haverhill,  for  the  cabin."* 

*  There  is  mtich  difficulty  in  arriving  at  the  true  character  of  Earl 
St,  Vincent.     He  was,  Rt  one  period  of  his  life,  warmly  engaged  in 


f.    J 


■P«#W%i 


h"'.i 


<  ■  {•' 


164 


IliVVERHILL. 


C II AFTER  XXI. 

We  now  descended  the  stairs  which  led  to  the  state 
cabin.  I  must  confess  that,  constitutionally  bold  as  1  was, 
and  my  courage  screwed  upwith  previous  mental  schooling, 
my  knees  shook,  and  I  trembled  like  a  leaf  at  the  thought 
of  the  interview  about  to  take  place.  I  had  no  doubt  that 
I  was  to  be  ushered  into  the  presence  of  great  men,  noble- 
politics;  and  tliio,  perhaps,  led  to  the  unequivocal  and  protracted  display 
of  enmity  agaiutit  him.  His  remarkably  severe  discipline  had,  preyi- 
ously,  made^'hini  many  hitter  enetnics.  His  gravity,  or  rather  severity 
of  deportment,  kept  aloof  those  who  would  have  been  his  friends ;  and, 
thus  incessantly  attacked,  but  seldom  defended,  his  reputation  has 
come  to  us  veiled  in  a  cloud  of  obloquy  and  reproach,  which  the  dis- 
passionate research  of  a  later  day  will  do  much  to  remove.  That  he 
was  very  haughty  and  arrogant  will  never  be  doubted  ;  but  it  will  be 
found,  I  suspect,  that  it  was  a  habit  growing  out  of  a  maxim  by  no 
means  er'-oncous,  that  on  chipboard,  "  the  less  there  is  of  familiarity, 
the  more  there  will  be  of  respect,  and  the  easier  order  will  be  kept." 
I  think  that  the  character  of  Loid  St.  Vincent  may  be  summed  up  in 
these  words,— '-That  ho  was  naturally  haughty  ^.nd  arrogant, but  brave, 
cool,  honest,  and  independent ;  fearless  in  the  discharge  of  what  he 
conceived  to  be  right,  and  not  to  be  turned  aside  from  the  path  of  duty 
by  the  sneers,  threats,  or  courtsliip  of  faction,  or  the  bribes  of  those  in 
pcwer." 

Earl  St.  Vincent  was  born  at  Mcaford,  in  StafTordshire,  January  9, 
(O.  S.)  1734.  He  entered  the  navy  at  the  age  of  ten  years  :  his  first 
service  was  under  Lord  llawkc.  In  1748  he  was  rated  a  midshipman, 
and  during  tliat  and  the  following  year  served  in  that  capacity  in  the 
Gloucester,  of  fifty  guns,  on  the  Jamaica  station.  On  the  19th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 175.5,  he  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant ;  and  at  a  sub- 
sequent  period,  was  employed  as  1  have  supposed  him  in  the  text.  On 
the  return  of  the  expedition  from  Canada  he  was  advanced  to  the  rank 
of  commander,  and  obtained  temporary  charge  of  the  Experiment,  of 
twenty  guns,  during  the  indisposition  of  her  captain,  Sir  Jolm  Strachan. 
While  in  this  ship  lie  fought  a  xebec,  under  Moorish  colours,  manned 
by  Frenchmen,  with  a  much  heavier  armament  than  his  own,  and  with 
a  crew  three  times  as  numcrou:^.  After  a  sliarp  action,  the  enemy  was 
compelled  to  seek  safety  by  flight.  He  afterward  had  the  Albany, 
sloop,  which  he  continued  in  command  of  tdl  October,  1760,  when  lie 
was  made  post,  and  had  the  Gosport.  He  had  otiier  commands,  of  no 
vreat  importance  however,  between  this  and  1774,  when  he  was  pro* 
moted  to  the  command  of  the  Foudroyant,  of  eighty-four  guns  ;  and 
in  that  aapacity  became,  by  reason  of  her  being  selected  by  the  admi- 
ral  to  carry  his  flag,  one  tf  Keppel's  captains.  F[e  commanded  that 
ship  in  the  memorable  engagements  between  the  French  and  British 
fleets  on  the  '27th  and  28th  of  July,  1778,  and  particularly  distinguished 


JU 


ij 


^mm 


m 


HAVERHILL. 


165 


men,  perhaps,  whom  I  had  been  taught  to  consider  as  a 
superior  race  of  mortals. 

Around  a  large  oblong  table,  by  certain  contrivances 
well  known  to  sailors  confined  in  the  centre  of  the  cabin, 
to  prevent  its  being  unseated  by  the  lurches  of  the  ship,  sat 
a  number  of  officers,  apparently  in  deep  consultation.  Th'j 
table  was  covered  with  books  and  charts,  over  which  some 
of  them  were  poring,  while  others  were  as  busy  with  a  bot- 
tle of  sherry  and  a  plate  of  biscuits.     Four  of  them  be- 

himseK  by  his  bravery  and  good  conduct.  On  the  trial  of  his  com- 
mander lie  gave  evidence  in  his  favour,  and  characterized  his  conduct 
as  displaying  "  the  greatest  naval  skill  and  ability." 

No  opportunity  occurred  for  him  to  distinguisli  himself  further  till 
April,  1782,  when,  being  still  in  command  of  the  Foudroyant,  and 
forming  one  of  Admiral  Harrington's  squadron,  he  captured,  after  a 
sharp  action,  the  Pegase,  of  seventy-four  gutis  and  seven  hundred  men. 
He  was  severely  wounded  in  this  action.  On  the  29th  of  May  follow- 
ing,  he  was  invested  with  the  order  of  the  Bath.  In  the  succeeding 
November  he  attended  Lord  Howe  in  his  successful  attempt  to  relieve 
Gibraltar.  On  the  return  of  tlie  fleet  he  was  advanced  to  the  rank  of 
commodore,  and  hoisted  his  broad  pennant  on  board  the  Salisbury,  of 
fifty  guns.  A  cessation  of  hostilities  soon  after  prevented  his  being 
employed  on  tlie  secret  service  to  which,  it  ia  said,  he  was  destined  at 
the  time  of  his  appointment.  „  „•     m,  -n    ^        i 

In  June,  1783,  he  married  the  daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Parker,  by 
whom  he  had  no  issue.  At  the  general  election  in  1784,  he  was  chosen 
member  of  Parliament  for  Yarmouth,  and  became  rather  conspicuous 
for  his  opposition  to  the  ministry.  On  the  24th  of  September,  1787, 
he  was  advanced  to  the  rank  of  rear-admiral  of  the  blue  ;  and  on 
the  21st  of  September,  1790,  to  the  same  rank  in  the  white  squadron. 
In  the  May  of  the  latter  year  he  was  chosen  member  lor  Chippmg 

In  February,  1794,  he  commanded,  in  conjunction  with  Sir  Charles 
Gray,  the  squadron  destined  to  act  against  the  French  possesions  ui 
the  West  Indies.  This  has  been  regarded  as  an  unfortunate  attair  lor 
the  fame  of  the  earl,  being  the  only  instance  in  which  a  shade  ot  doubt 
rested  on  his  character.  The  investigation  which  afterward  took 
place,  ended  in  ihc  vote  of  thanks  of  the  House  of  Commons  both  to 

him  and  Sir  Charles.  ,    ,    ^  .       v,-  u  i,n  ;» 

Th«  great  exploit  of  Earl  St.  Vincent's  life,  and  that  to  which  ho  is 
principally  indebted  for  his  fame,  was  the  splendid  victory  he  obtame.> 
over  the  Spanish  fleet  oft'  Cape  St.  Vincent,  on  the  14th  of  February, 
1797.  It  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  naval  actions  on  record.  He 
was  created  a  peer  soon  after.  During  tlie  administration  ot  Mr.  Ad- 
dington  he  held  the  place  of  first  lord  of  the  admiralty.  "°j;eUre« 
from  thiD  situation  in  1805  ;  after  which  he  commanded  the  Channel 

fleet  for  some  time.  •„      ^        j   ■    u-»  natu 

He  died,  March  15,  1823,  at  Rochetts,  near  Breiitwood,  in  his  09th 

year. 


i 


#.  ■ ' ' 


!:l 


iU    1 


166 


nArERIIILL. 


r'l  i 


;i 


longed  to  the  navy  ;  the  remainder  were  general  officers. 
I  shall  name  them  severally,  and  attempt  a  brief  biogra- 
phical  sketch  of  each. 

Admiral  Holmes,  who  had  hoisted  his  flag  in  the  Dublin, 
seventy-four,  which  Captain,  since  Lord  Rodney,  had  just 
quitted  on  his  promotion  to  the  blue,  was  the  first  that 
met  my  eye  upon  my  entrance.  He  had,  among  sailors, 
precisely  that  kind  of  reputation  which  is  enjoyed  by  your 
do-no-harm  people  on  shore,  equivalent  to  do-no-good  at 
sea, — could  fight  a  little — how  few  there  are  who  cannot? 
— had  been  tried  by  a  courtmartial  for  his  conduct  in 
Knowles's  engagement  with  the  Spaniards,  oft'Havannah, 
in  1718,*  and  w^as  accounted  a  very  good  seaman.  But 
liP  was  not  "  Tom  of  Ten  Thousand."!  nor  Sir  Charles 
Saunders.  He  had  the  merit,  I  have  heard,  of  instructing  in 
the  duties  of  his  profession  that  able  and  excellent  officer 
Lord  Hood,  since  so  deservedly  celebrated  for  his  victory 
over  De  Grasse,  and  for  other  splendid  naval  achievements, 
and  this  was  no  inconsiderable  merit.  He  was  among 
the  most  violent  of  the  unfortunate  Byng's  judges  :  I  never 
forgave  him  the  share  he  had  in  murdering  that  officer, 
under  the  forms,  but  without  the  spirit  of  justice. 

Another  of  these  gentlemen  was  Captain,  afterward  Sir 
Hugh,  Palliser.     He  has  lately  made  some  noise  in  the 


\i 


*  It  has  not  been  generally  tliouphl  that  any  blame  should  be  attach- 
ed to  him  for  his  conduct  in  that  aiiair.  In  Byng's  court-martial  the 
caso  is  otherwise  :  he  was  among  tho  most  virulent  of  that  ill-fated 
man's  enomies.  Horace  VValpole  throws  much  reasonable  susricion 
upon  Holmes's  motives  and  conduct  in  this  affair. — See  his  Memoirs, 
vol.  ii.  p.  168. 

Admiral  Holmes  oied  at  Jamaica,  in  1761.  There  is  a  monument 
to  his  memory  in  Westminster- II all. 

t  The  person  here  referred  to  was  Admiral  Smith,  the  same,  I  believe, 
who  presided  in  the  court-martial  held  upon  Byng,  and  was,  it  is  said,  the 
natural  brother  of  the  first  Lord  Lyttleton.  Admiral  Smith  died  in 
17G2.  He  was  known  in  the  navy  by  tlie  appellation  of"  Tom  of  Ten 
Thousand."  Many  anecdotes  are  related  of  his  wild  and  reckless 
valour.  While  iii  temporary  command  (the  captain  being  on  shore) 
of  the  Gosport,  a  French  fiigate,  sailing  out  of  Plymouth-harbour, 
passed  himwithout  lowering  her  topsails.  Smith  compelled  the  French- 
man to  show  the  usual  homage  by  a  broadside.  It  being  a  time  of 
peace,  complaint  was  made,  a  court-martial  sat  upon  him,  and  he  was 
broke,  with  every  circumstance  of  ignominy,  and — made  a  post-captain 
next  day.    Horace  >Yalpole  calls  him  a  "humane  though  weak  man." 


»"«.^*Sf»S' 


nAV£RIIIJ.L. 


167 


re  is  a  monument 


world  by  the  court-martial  he  was  principally  instrumental 
in  getting  up  on  his  old  friend  Admiral  Keppel. 

Sir  Hugh  Palliser  was  born  at  Kirk  Deighion,  in  York- 
shire.    He  belonged  to  a  fighting  family  ;  his  father  and 
two  brothers,  both  older  than  himself,  were  at  the  battle 
of  Almanza,  and  all  three  were  badly  wounded.    The  sub- 
ject of  this  brief  sketch  began  his  nautical  career  at  a  very 
early  age,  and  was  first  lieutenant  of  the  Essex  in  the  action 
offToulon,  in  February,  1744,  when  little  more  than  twenty 
years  of  age.     Passing  rapidly  through  the  several  interme- 
diate grades,  and  acting  in  various  other  important  com- 
mands, we  find  him,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1740, 
post,  in  the  Captain,  of  seventy  guns.     This  ship,  at  the  in- 
stance of  his  good  feeling  towards  Sir  George  Pocock,  he 
afterward  left  for  the  Sutherland,  of  fifty  guns.     His  ser- 
vices were  various  and  uninterrupted  till  1755,  when  he  con- 
ducted a  convoy  with  troops,  to  assist  in  the  last  enterprise 
of  the  unfortunate  Braddock.     It  was  at  this  time  that  he 
became  acquainted  with    Captain,  afterward    General, 
Washington ;  but  what  gave  rise  to  the  implacable  and  un- 
concealed enmity  evinced  by  him  towards  that  great  man, 
and  towards  the  Americans  generally,  and  which  confess- 
j    cdly  grew  out   of   this  expedition,  has   never  been  ex- 
plained.* 

In  May,  1757,  Captain  Palliser  took,  after  a  sharp  action, 
the  French  ship  Due  d'Aquitaine.  In  June,  1758,  he 
performed  good  service  on  the  French  coast,  in  destroying 
two  frigates  and  a  number  of  merchant-ships. 

One  more  sketch,  and  I  shall  have  done  with  the  naval 
part  of  the  council.  There  was  nothing  very  particular  in 
the  personal  appearance  of  the  naval  chief  of  this  expe- 
dition. Sir  Charles  Saunders.  He  was  a  good-looking  but 
not  handsome  man,  with  a  pleasant  countenance,  having 

*  Sir  Hugh  Palli5er  was  a  very  brave  man,  but  he  was  the  slave  of 
hasty  and  inipeluous  passions,  bittor  ia  his  leads,  and  withal  an  intcLi- 
perate  politician.  These  caus-=3,  sometimes  acting  separately  and 
Bometimes  togelluii,  kopt  him  perpetually  embroiled,  and  created  for  him 
many  fierce  and  implatiable  enemies.  Almost  the  whole  of  his  life  was  a 
scene  of  bitter  and  fiusrce  contention  with  a  host  of  politicd  and  personal 
•assailants,  who  look  advantage  of  his  irritable  temper  to  neutralize 
his  good  qualities.  His  charges  against  Admiral  Keppel  were  weak 
and  frivolous,  and  betrayed  great  vindictiveness. 


Mi 


■  t    Ji 


168 


HAVERHILL. 


much  good-humoured  expression  in  it,  and  florid  with 
strong  health.  lie  was  at  this  time  about  forty-five  years 
of  age.  As  there  have  been  few  naval  commanders  more 
distinguished  and  honoured,  further  appreciated,  and 
further  trusted,  I  cannot  but  think  that  a  brief  biographical 
sketch  of  his  hfe  and  services  will  not  be  unacceptable,to 
the  reader. 

He  was  of  German  extraction,  descended,  if  the  genea- 
logical  record  of  his  family,  which  I  have  on  my  table, 
speaks  true,  from  the  source  which  has  given  to  Germany 
a  long  line  of  emperors,  the  illustrious  house  of  Hapsburg, 
deriving,  if  the  family  legend  may  be  trusted,  from  Robert 
of  Inspruck,  second  brother  of  Rodolphus,  the  first  of  that 
line.  The  first  of  the  family  who  came  to  England  was 
Sir  Harlouen  Saunders,  who  first  established  himself 
on  British  ground  in  the  year  1270.  In  the  time  of  Crom- 
well the  family  removed  to  Ireland,  which  thenceforth  be- 
came the  residence  of  the  family,  and  w^iere  they  acquired 
large  possessions. 

1  am  not  able  to  give  the  date  of  the  first  commission 
granted  to  Mr.  Saunders,  but  previous  to  the  year  1740  he 
made  himself  so  distinguished,  that  when  Lord  Anson  was 
about  to  take  command  of  the  expedition  to  the  South 
Seas,  he  procured  young  Saunders  to  be  appointed  first 
lieutenant  of  his  own  ship,  the  Centurion.  In  the  February 
of  the  ensuing  year,  while  the  squadron  were  lying  in 
the  harbour  of  Port  St.  Julian,  on  the  coast  of  Patagonia, 
giving  one  of  the  ships  a  new  mainmast,  and  otherwise  re- 
fitting and  re^xuring,  Mr.  Saunders  was  appointed  to  take 
command  of  the  Tryal  sloop,  in  the  place  of  Captain  Cheap 
removed  to  the  Wager.  Being  at  the  time  dangerously  ill 
of  a  fever,  the  surgeons  advised  that  he  should  not  be  re- 
moved, lest  his  death  should  be  the  consequence,  and  Mr. 
Saumarez,  who,  upon  Captain  Saunders's  appointment  to 
the  Tryal,  had  been  made  first  lieutenant  of  the  Centurion, 
was  sent  to  take  charge  of  that  ship  during  her  captain's 
illness. 

The  epidemic,  which  he  was  among  the  first  to  imbibe, 
it  is  known,  afterv/a'-d  became  general  among  the  squad- 
ron, and  swept  away  a  large  proportion  of  the  crews  of 
eacli.     Captain  Saunders  buried  twenty  out  of  eighty,  of 


•m 


h 


HAVERHILL. 


169 


which  his  crew  was  composed,  before  he  was  well  round 
Cape  Horn ;  and  the  loss  of  the  other  ships  of  the  squadron 
was  equally  heavy  and  disheartening.  At  this  juncture, 
and  in  his  duties  subsequently  performed,  he  acquitted  him- 
self to  the  great  satisfaction  of  his  patron. 

In  September,  1741,  Captain  Saunders  came  nearer 
accomplishing  the  principal  object  of  the  expedition  than 
any  one  had  hitherto  done— he  took  a  valuable  merchant- 
ship  from  Valparaiso,  bound  to  Callao.     Either  in  the  chase 
of  the  captured  vessel,  or  soon  after,  the  Tryal  sprung  her 
masts,  and  withal  became  so  leaky,  that  finding  it  difficult, 
if  not  impossible,  to  keep  her  above  water,  he  removed  her 
armament,  and  ever/lhing  else  of  value  and  importance, 
and  destroyed  her,  adopting  and  commissioning  his  prize, 
to  which  he  gave  the  name  of"  Tryal  Prize,"  in  her  stead. 
In  his  new  ship  he  cruised  off  Valparaiso  for  a  few  weeks, 
but  without  success.     Thence  dropping  down  the  coast 
with  a  sharp  eye  out  for  the  Dons,  he  rejoined  his  com- 
mander on  the  2d  November,  off  the  point  of  Nasca.     He 
did  not  again  part  company  from  the  commodore  till  Apm, 
when  the  great  reduction  of  numbers  by  the  epidemic,  and 
long-continued  mortality,  rendering  a  sacrifice  of  some 
of  the  ships  necessary,  in  order  that  the  remainder  might 
be  navigated  with  safety,  and  placed  in  a  fighting  condition, 
the  Tryal  andall  other  prizes  were  destroyed,  and  the  re- 
maining ships,  in  particular  the  Gloucester,  were  reinforced 
by  their  crews.     This  arrangement  threw  Captain  Saun- 
ders out  of  em[  loyment,  constituting  him  little  more  than 
a  gentleman  passenger.    Upon  the  arrival  of  the  squad- 
ron at  Macao,  in  November,  1742,  he  left  and  came  home 
with  despatches,  which  among  other  things  attested  his 
good  conduct  and  recommended  him  for  promotion.     He 
had  never  been  noted  for  grasping  at  riches,  thence  he 
probably  bore,  with  better  temper,  his  ill  fortune  in  being 
out  of  the  way  when  the  Manilla  galleon,  with  all  its  golden 
ingots,  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  late  commander. 

It  is  not  known  what  ships  he  commanded  between  the 
period  of  his  arrival  from  China  (May  1743)  and  March 
1745,  when  he  was  placed  in  command  of  the  Sandwich, 
ninety.  It  is-  hardly  probable  that  he  would  have  been 
raised  at  once  from  the  command  of  a  mere  cockle-boat, 
Vol.  I.— 15 


170 


BAVERniLL. 


n 


■u'i^ 


,1  , 


¥  if 


Ji'  ' 


for  such  was  the  Tryal,  to  the  captainship  of  one  of  the 
largest  ships  in  the  British  navy,  and  it  is,  therefore,  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  he  had  passed  the  intervening  space 
m  active  service. 

In  1747,  lie,  for  the  first  time,  distinguished  himself  hy 
something  more  than  prudence  and  good  conduct.  In  the 
brilliant  afl'air  off  Cape  Finisterre,  between  Admirals 
Hawke  and  Letcndeur,  which  took  place  on  the  14th 
of  October  in  that  year,  he  commanded  the  Yarmouth, 
sixty-four,  and  fought  hie  ship  with  great  intrepidity.  The 
Neptune  and  Monarquc,  both  of  seventy-four  guns,  struck 
to  him ;  and  so  unsated  was  he  with  strife  and  success, 
that,  disabled  as  he  was,  and  with  near  a  hundred  of  his 
men  out  of  condition  to  fight,  he  wished  to  pursue 
Le  Tenant  and  L'Intrcpid,  the  two  ships  which  had  escaped 
the  fate  of  their  comrades. 

In  1750,  he  came  into  parliament  for  Plymouth,  and  in 
the  September  of  the  same  year,  married  Miss  Buck, 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  London  banker.  In  jMay,  1752,  he 
went  out  in  the  Penzance,  of  forty  guns,  for  the  protection 
of  the  Newfoundland  fishery.  Returning  to  England,  he 
was  appointed,  in  April  1754,.  treasurer  of  Greenwich 
Hospital,  and  in  the  ensuing  May,  through  the  interest  of 
his  great  patron  Lord  Anson,  was  returned  a  member  of 
pai'liament  from  tlie  borough  of  Ilendon,  in  Yorkshire. 

In  INIarch,  1755,  he  was  appointed  to  the  Prince,  of 
ninety  guns.  Being  a  little  proud  of  his  ship,  which  was  a 
beautiful  specimen  of  marine  architecture,  just  off  the 
stocks,  elegantly  fitted  up,  and  altogether  worthy  of  a 
sailor's  love  and  courtship,  he  gave  a  splendid  entertain- 
ment at  Spilhead,  in  the  cabin  of  his  ship,  to  the  nobility 
assembled  to  witness  the  nautical  doings  upon  the  anni- 
versary of  his  majesty's  coming  to  the  throne.  In  the  en- 
suing December  he  was  made  comptroller  of  the  navy, 
and  about  the  same  time,  chosen  an  elder  brother  of  the 
Trinity-House.  In  June,  1756,  he  was  promoted  rear- 
admiral  of  the  blue,  and  went  out  to  the  Mediterranean  as 
second  in  command  to  Sir  Edward  Hawke.  Upon  the 
return  of  that  oflScer  to  England,  in  1757,  he  left  Admiral 
Saunders  in  command  of  the  fleet.  In  1759,  he  was  made 
vice-admiral  of  the  blue,  and  appointed  naval  chief  of  the 


HATERHILL. 


m 


>f  one  of  the 
jfore,  reason- 
^cning  space 

1  himself  by 
duct.  In  the 
en  Admirals 
on  the  14th 
c  Yarmouth, 
pidity.  The 
•  guns,  struck 
and  success, 
indred  of  his 
d  to  pursue 
1  had  escaped 

[louth,  and  in 
I  Miss  Buck, 
^lay,  1752,  he 
;he  protection 
)  England,  he 
f  Greenwich 
the  interest  of 
a  member  of 
Yorkshire, 
lie  Prince,  of 
>,  which  was  a 
,  just  off  the 
worthy  of  a 
did  entertain- 
0  the  nobility 
pon  the  anni- 
e.     In  the  en- 
■  of  the  navy, 
irother  of  the 
romoted  rear- 
diterranean  as 
e.    Upon  the 
le  left  Admiral 
),  he  was  made 
al  chief  of  the 


expedition  against  the  Canadas,  to  wit,  that  in  which  I  was 
now  serving. 

In  all  his  various  commands  he  was  distinguished  by  a 
union  of  consummate  prudence  and  ready  valour  seldom 
found  in  one  and  the  same  person.     His  opportunities  for 
distinguishing  himself  were  not  so  many  and  frequent  as 
those  which  hud  occurred  to  many  other  commanders ; 
but,  when  they  offered,  he  had  improved  them  to  an  ex- 
tent which  gave  him  the  entire  confidence  of  the  country, 
and  caused  him  to  be  numbered  among  the  "  emergency 
men,"  among  those  who  should  be  called  to  perilous  com- 
mands, and  intrusted  with  momentous  undertakings.     The 
friend  of  friendless  young  men,  and  equally  the  discoverer 
and  rewarder  of  merit  under  a  gabardine  with  that  which 
was  veiled  by  an  embroidered  vest,  he  brought  out  many 
who  did  honour  to  his  judgment,  and  afterward  became 
ornaments  of  the  British  navy.     Kind  and  humane  to  his 
men,  he  was   ardently  beloved  by  them ;   affable   and 
pleasant  in  his  deportment  and  demeanour,  he  was  very 
popular  with  all  classes ;  honest,  sensible,  and  sagacious, 
he  filled  several  important  offices  connected  with  the  navy, 
entirely  to  the  satisfaction  of  both  the  government  and 
people — two  parties  not  always  agreeing  in  their  estimate 
of  the  value  of  official  labours,  nor  offering  their  hands,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  to  a  public  servant.     And  here  I 
leave  Sir  Charles  Saunders,  with  my  blessing  upon  him, 
for  a  brave  and  excellent  man,  and  with  the  hope  that  he 
may  live  to  acquire  other  and  higher  rewards.* 

*  Upon  big  return  from  Quebec,  Admiral  Saunders  was  received 
with  great  joy  and  affection.  Ho  was  appointed  lieutenant-gen.oral 
of  marines,  and.  upon  his  taking  bis  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
'anuary  '20,  1700,  received,  through  the  speaker,  "  the  thanki  of  that 
house,"  for  his  gallant  conduct  and  invaluable  services.  In  the  suc- 
ceeding May,  he  went  to  take  command  in  the  Mediterranean.  In 
May,  1761,  ho  was  made  a  Knight  of  the  Bath,  and  in  October,  1762, 
advanced  to  the  rank  of  vice-admiral  of  the  white.  In  September, 
1760,  having  sometime  had  a  seat  at  the  admiralty  board,  he  was 
sworn  in  of  the  privy  council,  and  appointed  first  lord  of  the  admi- 
ralty. At  the  funeral  of  the  Duke  of  York,  in  1767,  he  was  one  of  the 
admirals  chosen  to  support  the  canopy.  In  October,  1770,  he  was 
made  admiral  of  the  blue.  He  died  December  7th,  1775,  at  his  house,  in 
Spring  Gardens,  and  was  interred  in  Westminster  Abbey,  on  the  12th. 
The  unequal  disposition  of  his  property  between  his  two  personal 


^1 


!J 


iM:. 


172 


HAVERHILL. 


M 


it 


ii  *i 


Of  the  military  gentlemen  present  there  were  several 
of  whom  my  notice  must  be  exceedingly  brief.  Brigadier 
the  Honourable  Robert  Monckton  was  second  son  of  the 
first  Lord  Galway,  by  his  first  wife  Elizabeth,  a  daughter 
of  the  second  Duke  of  Rutland.  He  was  a  rather  young, 
and  very  gentlemanly  officer,  with  a  competent  share  of 
professional  skill  and  science.  His  selection  by  the  com- 
mander-in-chief to  be  one  of  his  companions  in  the  perilous 
expedition  he  was  sent  upon  is  not  to  be  taken  as  proof  that 
he  was  possessed  of  transcendent  talents,  or  fitted  beyond 
other  men  for  the  command  of  a  brigade,  for  we  see  that 
very  bad  soldier.  Colonel  Howe,  commanding  the  li^ht 
infantiy,  and  Barre,  much  of  a  politician,  but  little  ot  a 
soldier,  acting  as  adjutant-general.  The  staff  of  the  army 
appears  to  have  been  made  on  much  the  same  principle  as 
that  by  which  a  money-lender  contrives  to  get  usurious 
interest  for  a  loan,  without  incurring  the  penalty  of  the 
laws.  "  I  will  loan  you  fifty  pounds,  at  five  per  cent.,  pro- 
vided you  will  buy  a  chest  of  drawers  (worth  twenty 
shillings)  at  five  pounds."  It  has  been  alleged  that 
General  Wolfe  had  the  selecting  of  his  staff".  It  is  a  mis- 
take. There  were  several  thrust  upon  him  whose  ser- 
vices he  little  desired,  and  whom  he  never  would  have 
taken  if  he  could  have  helped  it.  I  do  not  mean  to 
insinuate  that  General  Monckton  was  one  of  the  "bitter 
pills"  the  minister  compelled  the  commander-in-chief  to 
swallow.  His  conduct,  while  in  command  of  the  expedi- 
tion against  the  French  West-India  possessions,  in  1762, 
proves  him  to  have  been  rather  an  efficient  soldier.* 

friends,  5000/.  to  Sir  Hugh  Palliser,  and  tlie  like  sum,  with  an  addi- 
tional  1200/.  per  annum  to  Admiral  Keppel,  it  has  been  suggested,  was 
the  cause  of  the  implacable  hostility  evinced  by  the  former  towards 
the  latter. 

Horace  Walpole  says  of  Admiral  Saunders,  that  he  was  a  "  pattern 
of  most  steady  bravery,  united  with  the  most  unaffected  modesty.  No 
man  sai(f  less  or  deserved  more.  Simplicity  in  his  manners,  generosity, 
and  good-nature,  adorned  his  genuine  love  of  country,"  Such  a  com- 
pliment from  such  a  snarler  as  Walpolo,  is  equivalent  to  a  volume  from 
an  habitual  praiser.  England  has  never,  in  my  opinion,  produced  a 
man  better  fitted  for  naval  command  than  Sir  Charles  Saunders. 

•  In  April,  1761,  General  Monckton  was  appointed  governor  of 
New- York.  Towards  the  close  of  the  year,  he  was  sent  to  command 
th«)  expedition  which  eventually  dispossessed  the  French  of  their  most 


jV**:-f.ii5:;: 


HAVERHILL. 


173 


were  several 
if.  Brigadier 
id  son  of  the 
h,  a  daughter 
rather  young, 
tent  share  of 

by  the  com- 
n  the  perilous 
I  as  proof  that 
fitted  beyond 
r  we  see  that 
Jing  the  li^ht 
ut  little  ot  a 
[f  of  the  army 
le  principle  as 

get  usurious 
•enalty  of  the 
per  cent.,  pro- 
vorth  twenty 

alleged  that 
It  is  a  mis- 
a  whose  ser- 
•  would  have 
not  mean  to 
>f  the  «  bitter 
ler-in-chief  to 
)f  the  expedi- 
ions,  in  1762, 
ioldier.* 

a,  with  an  addi- 

n  suggested,  was 

former  towards 

was  a  "  pattern 
id  modesty.  No 
iners,  generosity, 
"  Such  a  com- 
Lo  a  volume  from 
lion,  produced  a 
I  Saunders, 
ted  governor  of 
eut  to  command 
ch  of  their  roost 


Brigadier  Murray  was  also  of  noble  blood,  though  not, 
as  some  have  supposed,  of  the  blood  of  the  Athols,  which 
has  given  some  six  or  seven  Murrays  to  the  British  peer- 
age. He  was  the  youngest  son  of  Alexander  Lord  Eli- 
bank,  and  entered  the  army  about  the  same  time  as  General 
Wolfe.  Nobody  ever  thought  him  less  than  brave,  but  he 
never  succeeded  in  what  he  undertook,  nor  honoured  the 
commands  he  was  intrusted  with.* 

General  Townsliend,t  who  succeeded  to  the  command 


raluable  West-India  colonies.  In  1773,  a  court  of  East-India  proprie- 
tors recoiu  mended  liimto  be  sent  out  commander-in-chief  of  the  forces, 
but  the  appointment  was  never  made.  In  1779,  he  was  appointed 
governor  of  Portsmouth,  in  which  situation  ho  continued  till  his  death, 
which  took  place  on  the  20th  June,  1782.  His  widow  •urvivcd  him 
near  twenty  years. 

•  After  the  capture  of  Quebec  ho  was  appointed  governor  of  that 
place,  and  in  1763,  of  the  province  generally.  In  April,  1700,  he  was 
defeated  at  Siilery,  near  Quebec,  by  the  French  army,  under  M.  Levi, 
and  Wilis  only  saved  from  complete  destruction  by  the  opportune  arri- 
val of  tho  fleet  under  Admiral  Lord  Colville.  His  conduct,  during  the 
mutiny  of  tho  jn;arriaon  of  Quebec,  in  September,  1763,  was  di  rrving 
of  high  praise.  That  he  had  not  generally  given  satisfaction  may  be 
inferred  from  tho  fact,  that  promotion  to  be  lieutenant-general  was  with- 
held from  him  two  years  ai'ter  his  associates  in  Wolfe's  last  campaign, 
Townshend  and  Monckton,  had  been  gazetted  as  such. 

In  1774,  ho  was  appointed  lieutenant-governor  of  Minorca,  in 
which  command  he  continued  until  lie  was  compelled  to  surrender  it  to 
the  Duke  do  Crillon,  in  1784.  Charges  of  misconduct  were  brought 
against  him  by  Sir  William  Draper,  tho  second  in  command  (tlie  friend 
of  Junius),  but  they  were  not  substantiated,  and  it  is  generally  con- 
ceded that  his  defence  was  brave  and  obstinate. 

It  has  bc«i  said  that  General  Murray  was  of  a  very  arbitrary,  liti- 
gious, and  overbearing  temper.  His  bitter  persecution  of  the  unhappy 
Sutherland,  who  was  judge  advocate  at  Minorca,  during  his  governor- 
ship, has  been  frequently  commented  upon.  A  lawsuit  between  them 
having  been  justly  decided  in  favour  of  Mr,  Sutherland,  the  general 
got  him  suspended  and  recalled.  The  misfortune  preyed  so  deeply  on 
the  mind  of  the  unfortunate  gentleman  that  he  shot  himself  in  tho 
Green  Park,  within  sight  of  the  royal  carriage,  tiien  passing,  with  his 
majesty,  to  St.  James'i.  After  his  return  from  Canada,  an  action  was 
brought  against  him  by  merchants  of  Quebec,  to  recover  back  money, 
in  his  capacity  of  governor  illegally  imposed  as  duties ;  and  there, 
also,  judgment  was  given  against  him.     He  died  in  1794. 

t  Horace  Walpole  was  no  friend  of  Townshend's,  and  has  made  very 
free  with  him  in  his  Memoirs.  "  To  Wolfe,"  says  he  (vol.  ii.  p.  345), 
"was  asiociat«d  George  Townsh'ind,  whose  proud  and  sullen  and  con- 
temptuous temper  never  suffered  him  to  wait  for  thwarting  his  lupe- 
riors  till  risen  to  a  level  with  them.    He  saw  ?very  thing  ia  an  ilN 

15* 


ii 


»'■•"  < 


,.-'^'V. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


/. 


M/.A 


fA 


1.0 


l.i 


2.5 


1^ 


S  «.  IIS 


us 


■  4  0 


2.0 


1.8 


• 

1.25      1.4 

1.6 

^ — ^ 

6"     - 

► 

7^ 


A 


■'t£f 


<? 


c^  "■?=, 


'^> 


>^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WESSTERN.Y.  14530 

(716)  872-4503 


^^ 


^  S' 


7 


Wl/.A 


m 


UAv^nniLtt 


\ 


•r/ 


w 


*) 


i    . 


m 


of  the  army  after  the  death  of  General  Wolfe,  and  at* 
tempted  to  claim  a  larger  share  of  the  honour  of  the  victory 
than  belonged  to  him,  was  an  important  member  of  this 
council  of  war.  He  was  a  fierce  politician,  and  continually 
thwarting  the  minister,  and  thence  it  was  that  he  was  so 
anxious  to  be  rid  of  him.  He  was  certainly  a  man  of 
talents, — as  a  statesman,  of  first-rate  talents,— but  so  very 
captious  and  fault-finding  that  no  one  liked  to  act  with  him. 
It  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation  to  attempt  to  des- 
cribe one  so  well  known  as  General  Townshend,  and  I 
pass  to  portrait  seventh. 

Colonel,  afterward  General,  Sir  William  Howe,  and 
commander-in-chief  from  1776  to  177d  of  the  British 
army  in  America.  (To  make  the  portrait  in  keeping  with 
the  faculties  cf  its  subject  it  should  be  a  miniature,  and 
below  it  should  be  written—"  as  large  as  life.")  In  the 
unhappy  list  of  incompetent  men  whom  Great  Britain  has, 
from  time  to  time,  appointed  to  office,  not  one  stands  out 
in  stronger  relief  than  Sir  William  Howe.  It  may  be 
safely  affirmed  that  he  lost  America.  Had  a  sensible  and 
conciliating,  yet  firm  and  deo'sive  man,  like  Sir  Guy  Carle- 
ton,  been  sent  in  his  stead,  I  am  pursuaded,  between  ne- 
gotiation and  a  display,  in  a  suitable  place,  of  energy  and 
resolution,  an  arrangement  would  have  been  effected,  and 
the  colonies  remained  linked  to  the  mother-country  for  at 
least  another  century.  Burgoyne  was  theoretical,  Clinton 
was  vacillating,  but  they  were  both  very  far  before  Sir 
William  Howe  in  all  that  goes  to  make  an  efficient  com- 
mander.* 

Poor  Frazer  !  I  fancy  I  see  thee  now,  lying,  mortally 
wounded,  on  that  disastrous  field,  lost  by  the  imprudence 

natured  and  ridiculous  light,— a  sure  prevention  of  ever  being  seen 
himself  in  a  great  one."  Again  (p.  383),  ♦'-Townshend  had  crossed 
him  (Wolfe)  in  his  plans,  but  he  had  not  yielded.  Townshend,  and 
his  friends  for  him,  had  attempted  to  ra(vish  the  honour  of  the  conquest 
from  Wolfe.  Townshend's  first  letter  Said  nothing  in  praise  of  him," 
&c.  &c.  \ 

*  The  American  wits  of  the  period  indulged  much  at  the  expense  of 
Sir  William,  and  their  lampoons  upon  him,  both  in  Terse  and  prose, 
were  without  number.  The  best  I  have  ever  seen  was  a  mock-heroic 
ballad,  by  Hopkinson,  entitled  the  "  Battle  of  the  Kegs."  The  incident 
which  gave  rise  to  it,  and  which  occurred  while  the  British  held  Phila- 
delphia, was  iadeed  very  ludicrous.    Some  machines,  containing  kegs 


Wo\(e,  and  at* 
r  of  the  victory 
lember  of  this 
and  continually 
hat  he  was  so 
inly  a  man  of 
3, — but  so  very 
to  act  wi*h  him. 
attempt  to  des- 
(^nshend,  and  I 

m  Howe,  and 
of  the  British 
n  keeping  with 
miniature,  and 
life.")  In  the 
'eat  Britain  has, 
one  stands  out 
e.  It  may  be 
1  a  sensible  and 
Sir  Guy  Carle- 
3d,  between  ne- 
of  energy  and 
m  effected,  and 
r-country  for  at 
)retical,  Clinton 
far  before  Sir 
1  efficient  com- 

,  lying,  mortally 
the  imprudence 

jf  ever  being  seen 
shend  had  crosied 
Townshend,  and 
Dur  of  the  conquest 
in  praise  of  him," 

h  at  the  expense  of 
n  Terse  and  prose, 
was  a  mock-heroic 
gg,"  The  incident 
British  held  Phila- 
es,  containing 


HAVERHILL. 


175 


and  headstrong  folly  of  John  Burgoyne.*  He  was  by 
birth  a  Scotchman,  and  one  of  the  bravest  men  that  ever 
drew  a  sword.  So  highly  were  his  services  and  good 
conduct  in  this  campaign  valued,  that  he  was  elected,  after 
they  were  known,  and  while  he  was  yet  absent,  to  repre- 
sent his  native  town  of  Inverness  in  parliament. 

Guy  Carleton !  brave  and  noble  man !  how  shall  I  find 
words  to  express  my  sense  of  thy  superior  excellence,  or 
space  to  say  all  I  would  of  thy  virtues  and  conduct  ? 
Brave,  shrewd,  sagacious,  penetrating,  and  conciliating  I 
the  equal  of  Wolfe  in  valour,  and  almost  as  well  qualified 
for  command,  what  fate,  America,  in  all  probability,  had 
been  thine,  had  the  command  of  the  British  army,  sent,  in 
1776,  to  effect  thy  subjugation,  been  intrusted  to  Guy 
Carleton  instead  of  the  indolent  Sii*  William  Howe  or  the 
dramatic  Burgoyne  ?  Of  all  those  who  had  commands  in 
America   during  that  war,   Clinton,  Howe,    Burgoyne, 

of  gunpowder,  had  been  set  afloat  above  the  city,  to  annoy  the  British 
fleet  lying  below.  As  they  drifted  down,  a  sharp  fire  was  kept  up  on 
them,  from  the  troops  stationed  on  the  wharves,  with  the  hope  to  destroy 
them.    The  following  is  one  stanza  from  the  ballad  :— 

"  Sir  William  he,  snug  as  a  flea, 
Lay  all  this  time  a  snoring ; 
Mor  dream'd  of  harm,  as  he  lay  warm 
In  bed  with  Mrs.  Loring." 

Sir  William  was  thought  by  many  to  have  lost  the  battle  of  German- 
town  purposely.  Many  and  rough  were  the  jokes  and  gibes  passed 
upon  him.  The  first  time  he  went  to  court  after  his  return  from  America, 
he  had  a  pair  of  particularly  fine  bays  to  his  carriage.  "  Where  did 
the  general  get  his  bays?"  demanded  one.  "Not  in  America,"  was 
the  answer. 

It  is  nevertheless  true,  that  he  was  the  especial  favourite  of  the 
commander-in-chief.     His  manners  were  very  bland  and  fascinating. 

*  The  battle  of  Saratoga.  After  doing  all  that  man  could  do  to 
retrieve  the  fortunes  of  that  fatal  day,  he  fell,  mortally  wounded  by  a 
musket-ball  fired  by  a  man  stationed  in  the  top  of  a  tree.  He  was  re- 
moved to  the  rear  of  the  army,  and  laid  upon  the  ground  in  the  shadow 
of  an  ancient  oak.  He  demanded  of  the  surgeon  if  his  wound  was 
mortal.  He  was  told  that  it  was:  that  he  eould  not  be  expected  to  live 
more  than  twenty«four  hours.  He  proceeded  immediately  to  make  his 
arrangements  to  meet,  the  event,  with  as  much  coolness  as  if  he  had 
been  dictating  a  despatch  in  a  moment  of  victory.  He  died,  as  he 
had  lived,  the  idol  of  the  army,  and  of  a  wide  circle  of  personal 
friends. 

Madam  Reidesel  has  a  charming  passage  in  her  Memoirs  relating  to 
this  brave  man. 


M 


176 


RATKRRILL. 


Cornwallis,  Rawdon,  no  one  came  near  Carleton  for  talent 
and  ability. 

Guy  Carleton,  afterward  Sir  Guy,  was  born  at  Newry, 
in  the  year  1722.  His  father  was  Christopher  Carleton, 
Esq. ;  his  mother  was  Miss  Ball,  daughter  of  Henry  Ball, 
Esq.  He  entered  the  army,  as  most  great  soldiers  have 
done,  very  young.  At  the  time  of  the  expedition  against 
Quebec,  his  reputation  stood  so  high  that  General  Wolfe,  as 
it  is  said,  agreed  to  ease  the  premier's  shoulders  of  the 
troublesome  Townshend,  provided  he  would  prevail  upon 
the  king  to  consent  that  Carleton,  who  had  displeased  him, 
should  accompany  the  expedition.  So  inveterate  was  the 
royal  prejudice  against  Carleton  that  three  several  inter- 
views took  place  before  the  king  would  yield.  In  this  cam- 
paign he  possessed,  as  an  officer,  more  interest  with  the 
commander-in-chief,  and  his  professional  opinion  went 
further,  than  any  other  man  in  the  army.* 

But  he  who,  next  to  the  commander-in-chief,  most  at- 
tracted my  attention,  was  Major,  afterward  the  celebrated 
politician  and  orator,  Colonel  Barre,  acting  as  adjutant- 
general  of  the  army.  He  had  not  yet  distinguished  him- 
self as  a  politician.  Barre  was,  undoubtedly,  a  man  of 
great  talents,  but  his  implacable  and  unrelenting  hostility  to 
"  your"  side  of  the  question,  and  which  even  now  began  to 
show  itself,  though  not  so  fully  as  when  he  had  become  a 
member  of  the  imperial  parliament,  lost  him  a  large  share 
of  the  advantages  he  might  have  derived  from  a  ready  and 
caustic  wit,  a  clear  voice,  a  brilliant  fancy,  liberal  know- 
ledge, and  as  much  brass  as  was  used  in  building  the 
Pharos.f 

•  lie  was  afterward  in  the  expedition  against  Belle  Isle,  where  he 
was  wounded.  In  1762  be  was  at  the  siege  of  Havannah.  When 
Governor  Murray  was  recalled  from  Quebec,  he  went  out  as  lieuten- 
ant-governor, and  soon  aftet,  was  promoted  to  the  government  of  the 
province.  Ho  continued  to  be  employed  in  North  America,  either  as 
commander-in-chief  of  the  forces  or  as  governor-general,  until  1796. 
From  1781  till  the  acknowledgment  of  the  colonies  as  independent 
states,  he  commanded  the  British  army  in  America. 

He  married,  in  May,  1772,  Maria,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Effingham, 
and  died  in  1808, 

t  Colonel  Barr^  did  not  continue  in  military  life  long  after  the  termi- 
nation of  the  Canada  expedition.  Ho  remained  with  the  army  in 
Canada  uotil  th»  fall  of  Montreal,  in  the  September  of  the  next  year. 


leton  for  talent 


opinion  went 


Harl  ofEfRnghara, 


HAVERHILL. 


177 


The  only  person  of  the  party  remaining  without  his 
description,  was  a  gentleman  who  sat  upon  the  right  of 
Admiral  Saunders.  As  far  as  personal  appearance  went, 
he  scarcely  deserves  a  sketch — on  the  principle  maintained 
by  the  old  monastic  writer,  that  where  a  "  person  is  homely, 
it  is  proof  positive  that  his  Creator  cared  so  little  about  him, 
that  he  did  not  even  deign  to  finish  him."  He  had  a  face 
sharp  and  thin,  hair  red  and  very  coarse,  skin  fair  and 
freckled,  eyes  blue  and  benignant,  a  smiling  mouth,  and  a 
manner  which  assured  you  of  the  pleasant  and  happy  dis- 
position of  him  that  wore  it,  nevertheless,  he  was  what 
might  be  called  a  plain  man.  Being  so  very  unpretending 
in  features,  and  withal  the  worst  dressed  of  any  one  in  the 
group,  I  set  him  down  as  a  person  who  had  thrust  himself 
into  the  company  of  his  betters — perhaps  a  clerk  intro- 
duced to  take  notes,  or  a  waiter  to  crack  the  walnuts. 
But  I  was  very  much  mistaken ;  it  was  the  commander-in- 
chief. 

As  General  Wolfe  has  had  few  equals  for  courage,  saga- 
city, and  prudence,  as  none  have  gone  beyond  him  in  the 
display  of  military  talent,  and  that  watchfulness  in  season 
and  out  of  season  which  more  than  any  thihg  else  fits  a 

then  came  home  with  the  despatches  announcing  that  event,  and  threw 
up  all  military  command.  In  1763  he  came  into  parliament  for  Chip- 
ping Wycombe.  He  was  now  enabled  to  gratify  his  darling  passion 
for  forensic  display,  and  made  as  many  speeches,  and  was  as  often 
"upon  his  legs,"  to  use  a  parliamentary  phrase,  as  any  other  member. 
Some  of  his  speeches  were  particularly  fine. 

Barry's  vehement  patriotism  was  eventually  silenced,  as  the  patriotism 
of  many  others  has  been  silenced — he  obtained  office.  In  1768,  he  was 
appointed  joint  vice-treasurer  of  Ireland.  Upon  the  coming  into 
power  of  the  whigs,  under  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  in  March, 
1782,  he  was  made  treasurer  of  the  nav;'.  Upon  the  death  of  th« 
marquis,  which  took  place  in  the  July  following,  he  was  made  pay- 
master-general of  the  forces.  In  1786,  he  was  made  clerk  of  the  Pells, 
one  of  the  best  offices  in  the  gift  of  the  minister,  and  a  complete  sine- 
cure, worth  more  than  3000i.  a  year.  The  pension  granted  him  by  the 
marquis,  a  short  time  before  his  death,  and  which  occasioned  the 
motion  and  memorable  debate  in  the  House  of  Commons,  was  given  up 
by  him  as  the  price  of  the  sinecure.  He  held  his  office  till  the  time  of 
his  death  in  1802.  He  was  completely  blind  for  the  last  twenty  years 
of  his  life,  but  retained  to  the  moment  of  the  paralytic  stroke,  which 
deprived  him  of  existence,  those  talents  for  conversation,  and  the  cheer- 
fiilness  and  ease  which  had  rendered  his  company  so  much  sought  in 
Uie  meridian  of  his  Uf«.  .  n 


V 


178 


HAVERHILL. 


soldier  for  command,  I  cannot  believe  that  my  readers  will 
think  the  time  misapplied  which  is  taken  up  in  a  rapid  view 
of  the  principal  incidents  in  the  life  of  this  admirable  and 
justly  celebrated  man,  and  a  brief  delineation  of  his  cha- 
racter  previous  to  the  time  that  1  became  acquainted  with 
him.  In  drawing  up  this  memoir  I  will  be  concise  and 
brief,  consulting  the  supposed  feelings  of  my  readers,  and 
their  fancied  unwillingness  to  relish  a  long  story,  rather 
than  my  own  heart,  which  could  talk  of  him,  think  of  him, 
write  about  him,  for  almost  any  length  of  time  and  number 
of  pages,  without  weariness  or  satiety. 

James  Wolfe  was  born  in  the  parish  of  Westerham,  in 
the  county  of  Kent.  His  father  was  Edward  Wolfe,  the 
name  of  his  mother  was  Henrietta.  The  father  was  him- 
self a  soldier,  and  rose  by  the  regular  gradations  to  be  a 
lieutenant-general.  He  died,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  colonel 
of  the  8th  regiment,  or  "  King's  own."  James  was  the 
second  son  ;  the  eldest,  Edward,  a  youth  of  great  promise, 
also  entered  the  army,  and  died  young  in  Germany. 

The  exact  period  of  the  birth  of  my  hero  is  not  well  es- 
tablished. The  inscription  on  the  slab  in  the  church  at 
Westerham  says  he  was  born  January  2d,  1727,  but  in  a 
letter,  with  a  copy  of  which  I  have  been  favoured,  from 
him  to  his  mother,  dated  November  6th,  1751,  he  says  "I 
am  this  day  twenty-five  years  of  age."  This  would  fix  his 
birth  upon  November  6th,  1736.  The  entry  of  his  bap. 
tism  in  the  parish  record  at  Westerham  makes  that 
ceremony  to  have  taken  place  on  the  11th  of  January, 
1727.  ^ 

It  is  believed  that  his  opportunities  for  acquiring  an  edu- 
cation were  not  proportionably  extended  with  the  means 
of  his  father  for  affording  them.  But  the  best  and  surest 
test  of  original  genius  is  tlie  doing  without  them.  At  Wes- 
terham he  went  to  school  to  a  Mr.  Lawrence,  but  I  have 
never  been  able  to  learn  who  his  preceptors  were  after  his 
removal,  with  his  father,  to  Blackheath,  nor  in  any  instance 
what  were  his  favourite  studies,  or  his  peculiar  habits  at 
school.  In  riper  years  he  astonished  all  by  his  readiness 
of  reference  to  the  classic  authors  who  treated  of  his  fa- 
vourite science,  and  quite  as  much  by  his  chaste  and  beau- 
tiful diction,  and  his  language,  at  once  simple,  impassioned, 


XIAVERHILLi 


no 


and  energetic.    His  letters,  as  far  as  regards  composition, 
are,  in  my  opinion,  among  the  best  extant.* 

I  have  not  the  date  of  his  first  commission  in  the  army, 
but  he  must  have  been  very  young  at  the  time  he  received 
it,  for  he  was  known  as  a  promising  youth  as  early  as  1747, 
when  he  served,  with  eclat,  at  the  battle  of  Lafeldt.  He 
distinguislicd  liimself  throughout  that  war  by  courage  and 
good  conduct,  but,  above  all,  by  his  exact,  though  humane 
and  popular  discipline.  During  the  peace  which  followed, 
he  exerted  himself  to  improve  the  tactics  of  the  regiment 
to  which  he  was  attached  (Kingsley's,  or  the  20th),  with 
such  success  that,  at  the  battle  of  ^linden,  it  was  allowed 
to  be  the  most  regular  and  exact  of  any  brought  into  ac- 
tion ;  and,  though  not  under  the  eye  of  its  trainer,  wns, 
with  the  exception  of  Waldegravc's,  which  stood  upon  a 
par  of  excellence  with  it,  the  most  elective  of  any  engaged 
on  that  memorable  day. 

During  the  long  period  he  was  (luartcred  in  England,  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  corresponding  regularly  with  his  family. 
The  letters  he  wrote  at  that  time  are  delightful,  while  they 
are  full  of  precept  and  instruction  for  youthful  aspirants  to 
military  honours — indeed,  I  may  say,  for  ambitionists  in 
any  path.  -They  show  his  successful  resistance  to  the 
wiles  which  beset  youth,  especially  soldier  youth.  He 
hints  at  one  "  besetting  sin,"  which  he  mastered,  and  speaks 
of  "  passions  combated  and  overcome,"  from  which  it  may 
be  inferred  that  he  was  of  an  ardent  temperament.  He 
tells  his  mother  that  he  is  quite  a  ladies'  man,  and  gives 
much  time  to  female  society.  With  his  profession,  which 
is  a  sure  passport  to  the  favour  of  the  fair ;  with  his  high 
reputation,  which  would  induce  them  to  throw  up  the 
checks  they  are  sometimes  compelled  to  impose  on  them- 


m 


*  His  letters,  amounting  to  more  than  two  hundred,  passed,  at  his 
death,  into  the  hands  of  his  friend,  and  I  believe  liis  father's  executor, 
tho  late  General  Ward,  and  from  thence  into  Mr.  Southey's.  It  ia 
probably  known  to  most  of  my  readers  that  the  hiureate  is  writing  the 
hero's  life  for  Mr.  Murray's  Family  Library.  When  we  recollect  that 
Mr.  Southey,  always  a  powerful  writer,  is  peculiarly  happy  in  biog- 
raphy, and  memoir  writing  (see  the  Life  of  Nelson!  the  Memoirs 
prefixed  to  Kirke  White's  Remains,  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  &c.), 
it  is  not  too  much  to  expect  from  him  a  book  which  shall  adorn  the 
literaturs  and  langiuagt  of  the  nation. 


j-fssaawk' 


'»i-K 


,^- 


^. 


-  T(«»*lB**!.'f  t 


160 


HAVERKILL. 


selves  in  the  society  t)f  military  gentlemen ;  and  with  liig 
manners,  which  were  singularly  bland,  lively,  and  pleasing, 
it  would  have  been  strange  had  he  not  been  a  favourite. 
If  I  do  not  mistake,  for  I  took  no  copies  of  his  letters,  and 
quote  frommemory,he  intimates  that  his  plain  physiognomy 
and  red  hair  were  not  insuperable  bars  to  his  becoming  a 
sort  of  "  Captain  bold  in  country  quarters." 

In  1757,  he  was  appointed  quarter-master-general  of 
the  expedition  against  Rochfort.  It  has  been  generally 
conceded  that  if  Sir  John  Mordaunt  had  embraced  his  plan 
of  receiving  upon  the  ships  the  fire  of  Fort  Fouras  while 
the  army  should  be  landing  on  the  other  side  of  it,  the  ob- 
jects  of  this  costly  enterprise  would  have  been  easily  accom- 
plished. The  council  of  war  who  resolved  that  it  was 
better  to  return, — sneak  back  again,  were  the  more  appro- 
priaie  phrase, — and  leave  the  glory  of  Britain  dimmed  and 
tarnished,  had  not  the  name  of  James  Wolfe  among  them. 
But  while  the  affair  lost  Conway  his  popularity — (Sir 
John  Mordaunt  owed  his  appointment  to  Sir  John  Ligo 
nier's  rather  than  public  opinion,) — and  did  not  exalt  the 
reputation  of  Sir  Edward  Hawke,  it  drew  down  all  eyes 
upon  General  Wolfe,*  and  paved  the  way  for  the  command 
which  he  was  afterward  intrusted  with.  The  popular 
and  well-grounded  belief  that,  if  his  advice  had  been  fol- 
lowed, Rochfort  would  have  been  taken,  was  almost  tanta- 
mount to  a  designation  of  him  for  any  subsequent  hazard- 
ous service. 

In  the  spring  previous  to  the  commencement  of  my  ac- 
quaintance with  him  he  went  out  with  Sir  Jeffery  Amherst 

*  Horace  Walpole  hints,  in  a  letter  to  Seymour  Conway,  dated  two 
or  three  days  after  the  despatches  announcing  the  capture  of  Quebec 
had  been  received,  that  Wolfe  owed  his  death  to  his  blame  of  the  for- 
mer's conduct  at  Rochfort.  The  passage  occurs  in  his  thirty-fourth 
letter  to  the  field-marshal  (quarto  edition  of  Walpole's  Works,  page 
65,  vol.  v.),  and  is  in  these  words  ;  «'  Wolfe,  I  am  convinced,  has falltn a 
tacrifice  to  hit  rath  blame  of  you.  If  I  understand  any  thing  in  the  world, 
his  letter  that  came  on  Sunday  said  this:  '  Quebec  is  impregnable;  it 
is  Hinging  away  the  lives  of  brave  men  to  attempt  it.  I  am  in  the  situ- 
ation of  Conway  at  Rochfort ;  but,  having  blamed  him,  I  must  do 
what  I  now  see  h«  was  in  the  right  to  see  was  wrong,  and  yet  what  he 
would  have  done  ;  and,  as  I  am  commander,  whch  he  was  not,  I  have 
the  melancholy  power  of  doing  what  ho  was  prevented  doing.'  Poor 
man !  his  life  has  paid  the  price  of  his  injustice.** 


HAVERHILL. 


181 


in  the  expedition  against  Louisbourg,  having  then  the  rank 
of  brigadier.  It  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  say  vrhaX 
he  did  there.  Few  can  be  ignorant  that  he  was  the  firsi 
man  who  threw  himself  into  the  surf,  which  was  so  rough  and 
dangerous  that  several  were  drowned, and  very  many  boats 
overturned  in  the  attempt  to  get  to  the  shore.  His  darins 
und  impetuous  valour  won  the  day ;  his  soldiers  followed 
him  with  alacrity ;  the  centre,  commanded  by  Brigadier 
Lawrence,  "  took  the  water"  soon  after,  and  the  victory 
was  cheap,  easy,  and  complete. 

Early  in  the  following  year  he  was  appointed  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  expedition  to  which  I  was  now  at- 
tached ;  and  here  I  close  my  very  brief  account  of  his  like 
and  services,  promising  to  continue  the  sketch  of  the  for- 
mer, with,  alas !  the  conclusion  of  both. 


CHAPTER  XXn. 


"  And  so  you  are  the  young  man  we  picked  up  last 
night,  are  you  not  ?"  asked  Sir  Charles. 

I  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

He  then  inquired  into  the  particulars,  which  I  gave,  not 
however  without  considerable  hesitation  and  frequent  con- 
tradiction, for  my  memory  was  very  imperfect,  and  my 
recollection  much  confused  for  several  days  after  my  res- 
cue. I  had,  at'  this  time,  but  a  very  indistinct  remem- 
brance of  what  had  recently  happened  to  me.  There 
floated  in  my  mind  a  mass  of  images  quite  as  troubled  and 
tumultuous  as  the  ocean  at  the  period  of  my  disaster — in* 
deed,  there  was  a  continual  passing  and  repassing  before  my 
eyes  of  the  scenes  I  saw  then.  The  surges  were  still  roat- 
ing  in  my  ears  and  tossing  themselves  about  and  foaming 
before  my  eyes  as  they  were  wont  to  do  on  the  first  day 
of  my  exposure  in  the  boat.  It  is  known  to  be  the  com- 
mon effect  of  the  lengthened  presentation  of  a  remarkable 
object  to  one  of  the  senses,  especially  to  that  ofseeingt>rcf 
hearing,  that  it  will  retain  the  impression  of  the  object  long 

Vol.  L— 16 


^a.. . 


183 


HAVERHILL. 


/f 


after  it  has  been  removed  from  a«tual  perception.  I  fear 
I  have  not  made  myself  understood,  but  I  think  I  can  by 
a  pair  of  homely  illustrations.  I  have  known  a  man  who 
had  been  placed  for  a  day  in  the  vicinity  of  a  flock  of 
sheep  at  the  period  when  their  lambs  were  first  separated 
from  them  to  be  weaned,  or  who  had  listened  for  some  time 
to  the  barking  of  a  dog,  hear  the  bleating  of  the  former, 
and  the  complaints  of  the  latter,  when,  in  both  cases,  the 
nuisance  had  been  completely  abated. 

When  I  had  recounted  my  story,  the  admiral  remarked 
to  Captain  Palliser,  that  he  had  never,  in  the  course  of  a 
rather  long  life,  principally  spent  on  the  sea,  known  an  in- 
stance  of  preservation  from  death  so  remarkable  as  mine, 
"  If  the  special  interposition  of  Providence,"  said  he,  "  be 
taken  as  prophetic  of  its  having  something  good  in  store  for 
you,  young  man,  you  may  indulge  hopes  of  prosperity  and 
success  in  your  future  undertakings.  You  will  be  an  ad- 
miral, I  think." 

"  A  general,  I  am  sure,"  said  Wolfe. 

"  Pshaw  !  Hold  your  tongue,  Wolfe,"  said  the  admiral, 
affecting  peevishness.  "  Your  late  affecting  loss,  and  your 
anxiety  about  your  parents,  my  young  man,  will,  I  fancy, 
make  you  anxious  to  return  as  soon  a?  possible,  to  afford 
them  the  small  consolation  of  knowing  that  one,  at  least,  of 
their  sons  is  living." 

I  made  no  immediate  reply — I  could  not,  for  my  tears 
00 wed  too  fast  to  admit  of  my  answering.  They  appeared 
to  be  deeply  affected  by  my  grief.  As  soon  as  I  could 
command  my  feelings,  I  told  them  I  did  not  think  of  re- 
turning home  at  present.    I  wished  to  become  a  soldier. 

"  That  is  a  wise  resolution,"  said  Wolfe,  winking  to  the 
admiral,  who  appeared  to  be  strangely  nettled  at  my 
declaration.     "  It  is  by  far  the  easier  life." 

"No  such  thing,"  said  the  admiral.  "The  general  is 
only  chasing  his  tail,  my  youngster.  He  knows  better. 
It  is  a  hard  life,  a  very  dog's  life,  this  fighting  on  land.  All 
warfare  should  be  transferred  to  the  sea,  all  quarrels  should 
be  settled  on  that  element,  and  of  this  opinion  have  all  wise 
men  been.  There  ip  something  sedative  in  brine,  my  man. 
Become  a  sailor  for  your  life,  if  you  wish  to  be  thought  a 
brave  man,  or  to  pasii  for  a  Christian," 


'ft'e**.'^' 


HAVERHILL. 


183 


Dption.  I  fear 
think  I  can  by 
ivn  a  man  who 
'  of  a  flock  of 
first  separated 
i  for  some  time 
of  the  former, 
30th  cases,  the 

niral  remarked 
he  course  of  a 
I,  known  an  ia- 
-kable  as  mine, 
/'  said  he,  "  be 
ood  in  store  for 
prosperity  and 
will  be  an  ad> 


lid  the  admiral, 
I  loss,  and  your 
1,  wills  I  fancy, 
s»ible,  to  afford 
one,  at  least,  of 


)t,  for  my  tears 
They  appeared 
oon  as  I  could 
)t  think  of  re- 
come  a  soldier, 
winking  to  the 
nettled  at  my 

The  general  is 
knows  better, 
gon  land.  All 
quarrels  should 
[)n  have  all  wise 
brine,  my  man. 
o  be  thought  a 


"  Become  a  sailor,  and  be  the  sport  of  every  wind  that 
l,]ow8 — at  the  mercy  of  every  tempest  that  sweeps  the 
ocean !"  exclaimed  the  soldier.  "  Fair  weather  or  foul,  'tis 
all  the  same  to  Jack,  turn  out  he  must.  'Tis  •  a  small  pull 
here,  and  a  small  pull  there,*  'tis '  up  with  you,  you  lubber,' 
and  'out  of  my  way,  you  scoundrel.'  'D — n  your 
eyes,'  says  the  captain  ;  '  d— n  your  eyes,'  says  the  lieu- 
tenant ;  *  d — n  your  eyes,'  says  the  boatswain  ;  *  d — n 
your  eyes,'  says  the  chaplain. — As  the  Englishman  said  to 
the  Dutchman,  who  was  giving  the  names  of  the  principal 
towns  of  his  country :  *  Your  Amsterdam  and  your  Saar- 
dam,  and  your  Rotterdam,  and  you  are  all  damns.' 
When  sailors  fight,  it  is  like  a  London  shopkeeper  telling  his 
first  lie ;  and  when  they  die,  they  are  sowed  up  in  an  old 
sack  and  tumbled  overboard  to  feed  the  sharks.  No,  no, 
my  young  man,  listen  to  the  advice  of  a  disinterested  friend, 
and  take  the  land  service." 

"  Now,  all  that  Wolfe  has  been  telling  you  is  absolute 
blarney,  and  he  knows  it,"  said  the  admiral,  screwing  his 
face  into  an  appearance  of  being  very  angry  with  his 
opponent.  I  had,  however,  penetration  enough  to  see  that 
it  was  all  assumed,  though  I  could  not  tell  for  what  pur- 
pose. "In  the  land  service  they  bivouack  you  among 
snow  and  ice — among  serpents  and  wild  beasts — in  the 
mud,  in  the  dust — Heaven  knows  where  they  don't,  for  the 
time,  put  you.  Now  you  climb  mountains,  and  now  you 
swim  rivers ;  sleep  like  a  horse,  standing  up,  and  eat  while 
you  are  crawling  upon  all  fours." 

«*  Breathe  awhile,  and  then  to  it  again,"  said  Wolfe. 

"  Soldiers  die  of  as  many  diseases  as  horses,  and  very 
nearly  of  the  same  nature— even  think,  I  have  heard  of  their 
dying  with  the  bots;  cold  chills,  and  hot  chills,  excessive 
tremblings — at  times,  the  plague,  the  lumbago,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  diseases;  to  say  nothing  of  their  being  hung  for 
taking  a  certain  species  of  ready-made  linen  from  hedges 
and  bleaching  fields,  as  the  recruits  of  one  Sir  John  Fal- 
staff  did,  when  he  « misused  the  king's  press  so  damnably 
at  Coventry.'     Now,  sailors  never  die — " 

"If  sailors  never  die,"  said  Wolfe,  counterfeiting  the  ap- 
pearance  of  much  gloom  and  depression  of  spirits,  «•  I'll  be 


si  ii 


V 


184 


MAVBRHILL. 


off  to  the  moon  ;  no,  to  Mars— there  will  be  no  living  on 
earth  for  blackguards." 

"  Sailors  never  die  but  one  kind  of  death,"  resumed  the 
admiral,  eying  the  other  contemptuously.  "  A  fair  stray, 
pike,  gunshot,  or  sword  and  dagger  death,  my  man. 
When  soldiers  fight,  it  is  damnubly  shy,  as  every  one 
knows,  Wolfe  better  than  any  body — from  experience.  It 
is  true,  they  have  one  great  advantage  over  us  tars,  they 
get — buried — in  earth,  but  it  is  by  tens,  or  ten  score,  in  a 
big  hole,  with  iuat  about  the  same  ceremony  that  we  intsr 
the  corpses  of  puppies  and  kittens." 

•♦  The  sharks  don't  get  us,"  said  Wolfe. 

"  No,  but  the  dogs  and  tigers — and — wolves — singular 
Wolfe,  do.  I  remember  seeing  fine  sport  once,  tigers  versus 
dead  soldiers,  as  my  brother  the  barrister  would  say.  It 
was  near  Cassambuzar — " 

"Twang!  Don't  believe  him,  my  lad.  Old  Rough  here 
would  tell  you,  if  he  dared,  that  the  nearest  Sir  Charles 
ever  went  to  the  spot  he  is  talking  of,  which  is  a  town  in 
the  East  Indies,  was  the  South  Foreland." 

"  Why,  Wolfe,  you  might  as  well  say  I  lie,  as — as  to 
accuse  me  of  telling  an  untruth." 

"I  have  my  thoughts  about  the  matter,"  said  Wolfe. 

♦'  Impudent  enough,"  exclaimed  the  admiral,  pretending 
to  be  in  a  violent  passion,  but  scarcely  able  to  contain  his 
laughter.  "  My  lad,  if  you  will  become  a  sailor,  the  road 
to  honour  lies  open  to  you.  Preferment  shall  follow  your 
enlistment  in  my  ship,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Charles 
Saunders,  and  my  commission — " 

"  Is,  or  will  be  soon,  vice-admiral  to  the  yellow,  with 
permission  to  hoist  his  flag  on  a  haystack.  His  friendship 
can  be  of  no  avail  to  you,  Mr.  Haverhill,  for  he  is  already 
recalled  to  take  charge  of  the  Moses  and  Aaron,  Sunder- 
land collier." 

"Keep  that  noisy  tongue  of  yours  quiet ;  your  talk 
does  you  no  honour,  Wolfe.  My  young  man,  you  shall 
supply  the  place,  for  a  time,  of  midshipman  Lenox,  who 
is  cutting  his  teeth — curse  on  the  favouritism  which  con- 
verts ships  of  war  into  nurseries.  When  his  gums  are  well 
you  shall  be  translated  to  a  better  berth." 

"  I  have  a  situation  for  you  in  my  eye  worth  a  hundred 


V 


;* 


:5- 


)e  no  living  on 

"  resumed  the 
"  A  fair  stray, 
ath,  my  man. 
as  every  one 
xperience.  It 
r  us  tars,  they 
ten  score,  in  a 
that  we  intsr 


olves — singular 
;e,  tigers  versus 
vrould  say.    It 

)ld  Rough  here 
ist  Sir  Charles 
h  is  a  town  in 

[  lie,  as — as  to 

aid  Wolfe, 
ral,  pretending 
e  to  contain  his 
sailor,  the  road 
lall  follow  your 
me  is  Charles 

ie  yellow,  with 

His  friendship 

r  he  is  already 

Laron,  Sunder- 

et;  your  talk 
man,  you  shall 
in  Lenox,  who 
ism  which  con- 
3  gums  are  well 

orth  a  hundred 


UAVBRIIILL. 


185 


of  that,"  said  the  general,  earnestly.  *'  There  ii  a  vacancy 
in  Bragg's — " 

**A  proper  and  suitable  name,  by  the  great  Neptune," 
exclaimed  the  jovial  admiral,  "  Bragg !  im !  ha !  a  very 
suitable  name.  The  commander-in-chief  of  this  notable 
concern  should  have  been  named  Bragg  instead  of  Wolfe, 
for  a  greater  brag  never  placed  hand  on  hilt." 

"  You  shall  fill  that  vacancy — it  is  of  ensign,"  said  Wolfe. 
"  You  know  little  of  these  matters,  I  suppose.  Were  you 
ever  at  drill?" 

"  I  confess  my  entire  ignorance  of  every  thing  connected 
with  camps." 

"  But  you  are  not  ignorant  of  nautical  matters,  I  dare 
say?"  asked  the  admiral.  "  Could  hand,  reef,  and  steer,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  yet  any  body  may  see,  with  half  an  eye,  that  you 
are  intended  for  a  soldier,"  said  Wolfe.  "  Tall,  straight, 
alert,  the  qualifications  of  a  soldier ;  not  short,  drowsy, 
and  dull,  which  are  those  of  a  sailor." 

"  I  wish  I  was  as  sure  of  the  death  of  my  aunt  Holds- 
worth,  while  I  am  able  to  spend  the  twenty  thousand  I  am 
down  in  her  will  for,  as  I  am  that  you  will  make  a  capital 
sailor,  a  real  water-dog.  Shall  I  put  you  down  in  the 
place  of  Baby  Lennox  ?"  And  he  drew  a  roll  of  paper  to 
him,  and  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  demanded  Wolfe,  proceeding  to 
do  the  like  with  his  roll  and  pen.  "Ay,  I  remember, 
Haverhill — Lynn  Haverhill.  Well,  Lynn  Haverhill  to  be 
ensign  in  Bragg's  regiment,  in  the  room  of  Robert  Haldi- 
mand,  deceased,  sowed  up  in  a  sack,  and  buried,  according 
to  Sir  Charles  Saunders*  prescription,  in  the  maw  of  a 
shark." 

"  Lynn  Haverhill  to  be  midshipman  in  the  royal  navy, 
ia  the  room  of  Fitzroy-Campbell-Bentinck-Cavendish- 
Somerset  Lennox,  who  is  cutting  his  teeth.  Memorandum. 
When  Lennox's  gums  are  well,  and  he  resumes  his  place, 
Midshipman  Haverhill  is  to  have  the  first  vacancy  that  oc- 
curs, in  a  station  of  equal  or  superior  rank." 

Both  extended  the  parchment,  dipped  their  pens  in  the 
ink,  and  awaited  my  answer  in  Bilence,  and  with  more 

16* 


& 


186 


HAVSKHILL. 


W 


^1 


reBi?' 


gravity  than  they  had  hitherto  shown.  I  could  scarcely 
believe  that  a  dialogue  so  conducted  was  intended  for 
more  than  sport.  1  thought,  however,  if  it  were  meant  for 
a  joke,  it  would  be  best  to  treat  it  as  Shaccabac  did  that 
of  the  Barmecide's  imaginary  feast — not  show  my  sus- 
picion of  its  being  such,  but  to  humour  it,  I  replied, 
therefore,  with  profound  respect;  and  without  taking  any 
part  in  the  laugfi  which  my  apparent  credulity  raised,  that 
**  1  thanked  them  both,  and  thut  I  was  filled  with  joy  to 
think  that  I,  who  had  hitherto  considered  myself  a  friendless 
boy,  should  so  soon  be  offered  promotion." 

"  Come,  come,  you  are  smoking  us,  my  youngster,"  said 
the  admiral.     "  I'll  be  bound  you  see  how  the  tide  sets." 

"  But  do  you  accept  my  offer  ?"  asked  Wolfe,  eagerly. 

"  If  you  please,  sir." 

"  Better  sign  here,"  said  the  admiral,  offering  his  pen  and 
parchment. 

"  I  prefer  the  land  service,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  I, 
ttfking  the  pen,  and  si^^ning  the  roll  held  by  the  general. 

"Victory!  victory!  by  the  mighty  Mars!"  exclaimed 
Wolfe,  jumping  up  and  capering  like  a  schoolboy. 
"  Saunders,  1  have  made  him  a  soldier,  I  have  won  your 
money — a  cool  fifty,  my  old  fellow.  Come,  shell  out  your 
guineas." 

Seeing  me  perplexed,  and  tortured  with  the  natural  fear 
that  I  had  been  made  the  subject  of  ridicule,  his  counte- 
nance assumed  a  look  of  good-natured  compassion,  and  he 
said, — 

♦•  Do  not  be  disconcerted,  Mr.  Haverhill ;  after  all,  it  is 
but  half  a  joke,  the  commission  is,  or  shall  be,  real  and  au- 
thentic. It  is  Xi  je  that  my  Cassambu^ar  friend  here  and 
I  made  a  bet,  and  that  you  were  the  subject  of  it.  I — of 
course,  dislike  the  navy,  he  the  army,  and  both  dislikes  are 
quite  natural.  He  offered  to  wager  fifty  guineas  that  you 
wculd  enter  the  sea-service  in  preference  to  the  land-ser- 
vice. 'Agreed,'  said  I.  Carleton,  how  glum  he  looks. 
Mr.  Haverhill,  you  have  shown 

*'  Folly,  great  folly,"  cried  the  admiral. 

"Wisdom,  wisdom,  my  dear  old  Boanerges,"  replied 
hii  gay  and  lively  friend.  Then,  dropping  the  light  and 
sportive  manner  which  he  had  hitherto  worn,  he  assumed 


:ould  scarcely 
i  intended  for 
i^ere  meant  for 
;abuc  did  that 
show  my  sus- 
it.  I  refilied, 
ut  taking  any 
itv  raised,  that 
ed  with  joy  to 
elf  a  friendless 

oungster,"  said 
tie  tide  sets." 
blfe,  eagerly. 

ing  his  pen  and 

le,  sir,"  said  I, 
the  general, 
rs!"  exclaimed 
a  schoolboy, 
tiave  won  your 
,  shell  out  your 

the  natural  fear 
lie,  his  counte- 
passion,  and  he 

;  afler  all,  it  is 
be,  real  and  au> 
fiend  here  and 
'X  of  it.  I — of 
)0th  dislikes  are 
iineas  that  you 
to  the  land-ser- 
^lum  he  looks. 


BAVERHILL. 


187 


a  serious  and  dignified  deportment,  which  awed  every  one 
into  immediate  silence,  and  said, "  Mr.  Haverhill,  you  must 
remember  not  to  disgrace  me.  Distinguish  yourself  by 
your  bravery  and  good  conduct,  and  you  shall  not  remain 
in  your  present  grade  an  hour  after  the  first  battle.    You 

will  find  your  post  with  my  worthy  old  friend in 

the ,  to  which  ship  you  will  repair,  without  a  mo- 
ment's delay." 

A  boat  was  in  waiting  at  the  side  of  the  ship,  and 
ipeedily  conveyed  me  to  my  post.  There  were  several 
rather  hard  jokes  cut  at  my  expense,  as  I  ascended  the  side ; 
but  my  friend  Matthowman  was  at  hand,  and  the  jokers 
were  soon  quieted.  Behold  me,  then,  in  the  short  space 
of  six  days,  raised  from  the  greatest  obscurity  to  one 
of  comparative  rank,  my  fisher's  apron  thrown  aside, 
and  I  wearing  the  habit  of  one  entitled  to  bear  the  flag  of 
a  regiment  in  any  field.  It  was  a  great  change,  but  one 
which  is  daily  witnessed  in  every  country,  where  the  pri- 
vilege to  "  hope  nobly"  is  the  birthright  of  all.  The  peerage 
and  baronetage  of  Great  Britain  are  made  up  of  personi 
who,  in  themselves  or  their  ancestors,  were  as  poor  and 
mean  as  I,  but  who,  by  daring  and  good  conduct,  achieved 
rank  and  nobility.  And  in  so  far  as  nobility  is  personal, 
there  cannot  be  a  more  efficient  practice  to  excite  emula- 
tion, than  that  of  bestowing  titles  and  ribands  as  the  re- 
ward of  brave  and  meritorious  notions.  There  is  no 
reason  in  the  world  why  a  bad  or  booby  son  should  repre- 
sent the  honours  won  by  a  good  and  worthy  father ;  but 
the  gift  of  those  honours,  in  the  first  instance,  was  an  act 
which,  periiaps,  led  hundreds  into  the  field  of  battle  by  sea 
or  by  land,  or  filled  the  bar  and  tho  forum  with  worthy 
aspirants  for  legal  and  political  coronets. 


erges,"  replied 
I  the  light  and 
rD,he  assumed 


18S 


HAVERHILL. 


W- 


II: 


tP 


m 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

I  SOON  succeeded  in  removing  the  slight  prejudice  whicli 
was  felt  against  me  on  account  of  my  "  stepping  too  fast," 
and  became  rather  a  favourite.  Observing,  from  my 
almost  canine  appetite,  that  I  was  not  fit  to  be  trusted  with 
victuals,  they  divided  themselves,  for  the  first  three  or  four 
days,  into  regular  watches  over  me,  observing,  continually, 
how  and  what  I  ate  and  drank,  portioning  out  food  and 
drink  to  me,  at  the  times,  and  in  such  quantities  as  they 
deemed  proper.  ]Nothing  could  be  greater  than  their 
kindness  to  me  when  my  story  became  known.  My 
"weatherbeaten  and  dilapidated  apparel  was  partly  replaced 
from  the  king's  chest,  but  I  was  indebted  for  those  articles 
which  his  majesty  does  not  supply  to  the  liberality  of  my 
brother  officers.  Not  only  did  they  clothe  me, — a  collec- 
tion made  among  them  put  a  greater  sum  of  money  in  my 
pocket  than  1  had  ever  been  master  of  in  the  whole  course 
of  my  life.  Under  the  influence  of  their  kind  attentions, 
my  strength  returned  with  wonderful  rapidity.  In  a  very 
few  days  I  had  perfectly  recovered  my  health,  and  with 
it  my  memory,  and  became  so  fully  competent  to  laborious 
exertions  that,  in  a  heavy  gale  of  wind,  which  happened  on 
the  fourth  day  after  I  was  taken  on  board  the  ship,  I  was 
supposed  to  have  contributed,  in  no  little  degree,  to  her 
rescue  from  imminent  peril.  The  circumstance  being  re- 
ported to  the  admiral,  served  him  for  a  bitter  tirade  against 
the  general,  for  having  "  robbed  him  of  the  skeleton  of  a 
post-captain !"  But  the  general  retorted,  by  saying  that 
the  "  astonishing  proficiency  I  had  made  in  acquiring  the 
theory  of  war — war  upon  the  land,  proved  me  cut  out  for  a 
soldier."  ifaving  already  filled  half  a  dozen  pages  with  one 
of  their  merry  dialogues,  it  will  not  do  for  me  to  occupy 
space  with  a  second,  which,  however,  was  quite  as  charac- 
teristic of  the  men,  and  as  replete  with  wit  and  drollery 
as  the  former. 

Captain (my  present  commander),  I  must  sup- 


HAVERHILL. 


189 


prejudice  which 
jpping  too  fast," 
ving,  from  my 
be  trusted  with 
rst  three  or  four 
ing,  continually, 
w  out  food  and 
intities  as  they 
Iter  than  their 
5  known.  My 
partly  replaced 
Dr  those  articles 
iberality  of  my 
me, — a  collec- 
>f  money  in  my 
le  whole  course 
dnd  attentions, 
lity.  In  a  very 
lealth,  and  with 
ent  to  laborious 
ch  happened  on 
the  ship,  I  was 
degree,  to  her 
tance  being  re- 
5r  tirade  against 
e  skeleton  of  a 
by  saying  that 
n  acquiring  the 
me  cut  out  for  a 
pages  with  one 
•  me  to  occupy 
[juite  as  charac- 
it  and  drollery 

),  I  must  sup- 


Kress  his  name,  for  I  know  and  love,  and  will  not  offend 
is  worthy  representative — but    this  is  immaterial,  for 
British  sailors  will  be  at  no  loss  for  the  original,  and  others 

may  regard  it  as  a  mere  fancy  sketch — Captain 

was,  at  this  time,  about  fifty-five  years  of  age.  But  though 
he  was  far  advanced  in  life,  he  possessed  the  vigour  and 
activity  of  youth,  with  its  usual  buoyancy  of  mind  and 
flow  of  animal  spirits.  He  was  a  thorough  libertine,  but 
then  he  made  up  for  it  all  by  having,  as  the  ladies  say  of 
an  agreeable  rake,  "  such  a  heart." 

And  here  the  occasion  offers  to  enter  my  protest  against 
the  prevailing,  1  may  say,  the  unvarying  custom,  of  making 
coarseness  and  bluntness  the  concomitants  and  character- 
istics of  the  naval  profession.  It  is  not  more  common  to 
give  old  Scratch  a  tail  and  cloven  feet  than  it  is  a  sailor, 
from  the  captain  to  the  "  guinea-pig,"*  a  rough  and  blus- 
tering manner,  and  to  suppose  him  always  with  an  oath  in 
his  mouth  and  a  swagger  in  his  gait.  If  he  belongs  to  the 
naval  profession  he  invariably  "damns  his  eyes" — or 
"  yours,"  chews  tobacco,  depositing  the  spittle  on  the  car-? 
pet,  drinks  "  raw"  rum,  and  even  in  a  ball-room,  rolls  about 
like  the  vehicle  in  which  he  learned  his  habits,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  the  ladies,  the  utter  demolition  of  tulle  and 
lama,  and  the  complete  discomfiture  of  "  right  and  left." 

Now  this  is  all  fudge — not  a  very  elegant  word,  to  be 
sure,  but  a  very  appropriate  one  here.  I  have  seen  hun- 
dreds of  genuine  tars  who  could 

Caper  [as]  nimbly  in  a  lady's  chamber 
To  the  lascivious  music  of  a  lut* 

as  any  landsman  that  ever  "  trod  a  measure."  So  far  from 
being  rough  in  their  manners,  they  are — on  shore,  rather 
gentle,  and  quite  as  easy  and  accomplished,  and  certainly 
more  affable  and  unaffected  than  any  other  body  of  men. 
It  is,  moreover,  the  truth  that  whenever  they  are  found 
rough  and  forbidding  in  their  exterior,  it  is  in  consequence 
of  the  mistaken  notions  put  forth  by  writers,  who  have 
helped  to  make  them  what  they  are.    Finding  the  world 

*  Midshipmen  ar^  sometimes  called  "  tho  gentlemen,"  but  more  fre- 
quently "  the  guinea-pigs,"  on  board  a  ship  of  war. 


i*-- 


190 


HAVBRIIILL. 


'>1 


V'^ 


'^ 


/: 


was  determined  to  believe  the  sailor  harsh,  blustering,  and 
morose,  otherwise  he  were  an  impostor,  they  affected  those 
qualities  when  they  did  not  possess  them,  counterfeited  the 
roll  and  swagger  when  nature  had  denied  theni,  "  swore 
terriWy,"  even  when  want  of  glibness  betrayed  want  of 
practice,  and  kept  a  prodigious  pig-tail  to  wear  with  the 
dress  coat  and  pumps.  Rough  men  there  are  in  all  busi- 
nesses and  callings ;  some  never  can  or  do  become  cour- 
tiers,^ while  others  are  so  from  their  cradles,  and  with- 
out the  advantage  of  having  been  taught.  Of  the  first 
class  was  Captain ,  who  certainly  came  up  to  the  po- 
pular estimate  of  the  character  of  a  tar.  There  never 
perhaps  was  a  truer  representative  of  one  of  those  classes 
than  he.  When  your  eye  rested  upon  his  portly  figure,  his 
rubicund  and  bloated  visage,  and  were  told  that  he  was  a 
Bailor,  having  the  popular  model  in  your  mind,  you  imme- 
diately set  him  down  as  one  who  would  drink  a  quart  of 
mixed  brandy  and  water — three  brandies  to  one  water— 
at  a  sitting,  who  would  freely  risk  his  life  to  do  a  favour 
to  his  greatest  foe — flog  a  man  for  throwing  a  quid  of  to- 
bacco to  windward,  and  if  need  were,  lay  a  fifty-gun  ship 
alongside  of  a  seventy-four,  though  the  were  manned  with 
devils  from  the  infernal  regions.     If  the  reader  would  have 

a  portrait  of  Captain  t let  him  fancy  to  himself  a  man 

five  feet  five  inches  high,  and  about  the  same  in  circum- 
ference, with  a  face  of  the  hue  of  bronze,  and  swelled  and 

carbuncled  by  frequent  and  copious  draughts  of any 

thing  stronger  than  proof,  till  he  finds  himself  at  a  loss  to 
determine  what  it  was  originally  made  of.  His  hair  was 
red,  and  the  coarsest  I  ever  saw,  and,  seldom  knowing  the 
luxury  of  a  comb,  stood  out  like  the  quills  of  a  porcupine. 
I  fancy  I  can  see  him  now,  seated  at  the  head  of  his  own 
table,  sending  out  a  joke,  or  ejaculating  a  good-natured 
oath  with  every  plate,  cursing  every  thing  upon  the  table 
for  ill  quality  or  ill  savour,  and  between  each  good-natured 
expletive  taking  a  couple  of  sips  of  his  favourite  beverage. 
Then  it  was  as  "  good  as  a  play"  to  see  him  go  swaggering 
about  the  deck,  now  cocking  his  eye  aloft  to  remark  if  all 
went  well  in  the  department  of  sails  and  rigging,  now 
abandoning  his  professional  observation  to  sing  a  verse  of 
*'  Pretty  Polly  Hopkins,"  and  anon  scolding  with  "  dry 


h 


%^. ' 


HAVERHIIX. 


191 


,  blustering,  and 
sy  affected  those 
ounterfeited  the 
1  them,  "  swore 
trayed  want  of 
>  wear  with  the 
3  are  in  all  bus!- 
o  become  cour- 
dles,  and  with- 
it.  Of  the  first 
no  up  to  the  po- 
There  never 
of  those  classes 
portly  figure,  his 
Id  that  he  was  a 
nind,  you  imme- 
drink  a  quart  of 
to  one  water- 
to  do  a  favour 
ng  a  quid  of  to- 
f  a  fifty-gun  ship 
»re  manned  with 
ader  would  have 

0  himself  a  man 
same  in  cirwim- 
and  swelled  and 

;hts  of any 

iself  at  a  loss  to 
'.  His  hair  was 
om  knowing  the 

1  of  a  porcupine, 
lead  of  his  own 
;  a  good-natured 
5  upon  the  table 
ch  good-natured 
ourite  beverage. 
n  go  swaggering 
to  remark  if  all 
nd  rigging,  now 
u  sing  a  verse  of 
ding  with  "  dry 


damns,"  as  he  called  them,  the  common  sailors,  who  loved 
him  as  well  as  if  he  had  been  their  father.  No  man  ever 
was  possessed  of  less  dignity,  and  none  was  ever  better 
obeyed  or  carried  a  ship  into  action  with  a  more  perfect 
co-operation  on  the  part  of  his  officers  and  crew. 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-first  of  April  we  made 
the  land,  which,  by  our  observation  of  the  sun  the  preced- 
ing day,  we  knew  to  be  the  entrance  to  Gabarus-Bay,  about 
seven  miles  west  of  the  town  of  Louisbourg,  in  the  island 
of  Cape  Breton.  This  place,  it  may  be  remembered,  was 
the  scene  of  the  brilliant  exploits  of  my  brave  and  gene- 
rous  patron  of  the  preceding  year,  already  briefly  narrated 
in  the  sketch  of  his  life.  The  sight  drew  the  liveliest  ap- 
plause from  our  brave  fellows.  We  soon  after  bore  away 
for  Louisbourg,  were  within  sight  of  the  harbour,  and  had 
begun  to  indulge  the  pleasing  anticipations  which  a  very 
protracted  stay  on  shipboard  never  fails  to  inspire — had 
already  "rolled  upon  the  green  sward,"  "slept  upon 
/ea/Aer-firma,"  "  gone  to  church !"  and  done  the  various 
other  things  which  men  at  sea,  in  joke  or  in  earnest,  con- 
template doing  when  they  get  on  shore,  when  we  discov- 
ered that  the  harbour  was  completely  blocked  up  with  ice. 
Entrance  under  existing  circumstances  was  impossible,  and 
we  bore  away  for  Halifax.  Upon  our  arrival  at  that 
place  the  troops  were  immediately  disembarked,  in  order 
that  the  sick  and  disabled  might  be  recruited  and  restored. 

Before  the  fleet  sailed  from  England,  information  had 
been  received  at  the  admiralty,  and  communicated  to  the 
commanders  of  the  expedition,  that  a  squadron  of  French 
ships  of  war,  convoying  victuallers  and  transports,  had  lefl 
Cherbourg  for  Quebec,  in  order  to  provision  and  arm.  more 
effectively  the  garrison  of  that  stronghold,  against  the  an- 
ticipated efforts  of  Great  Britain  to  wrest  it  from  them. 
Admiral  Durell  was  detached  with  a  small  squadron  to  the 
Isle  aux  Coudres,  in  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  to  intercept 
them.  I  went  with  him.  The  navigation  of  the  coast  at 
that  point,  and  indeed  along  the  whole  of  the  adjacent 
shores,  is  very  perplexed  and  dangerous — it  requires  one 
well  acquainted. with  the  shores  of  the  bay  and  adjoining 
coast  to  pilot  a  fleet  to  the  Isle  aux  Coudres  •  "  liout  leaving 
the  bones  of  some  of  them  on  the  sands,  or  aruid  the  roclu 


193 


MATBIUUI4* 


V- 


i 


of  that  stormy  region.  We  escaped  all  disasters,  but  were 
too  late  to  derive  any  benefit  from  the  expedition.  When 
we  arrived  at  our  station  we  were  informed  that  seventeen 
large  ships,  laden  with  provisions,  and  having  on  board 
many  recruits  for  the  army  we  were  shortly  to  combat,  had 
passed  three  or  four  days  before,  and  were  safely  anchored 
at  Quebec. 

On  the  23d  of  June  we  were  rejoined  by  the  rest  of  the 
fleet  from  Halifax.  Dangerous  as  the  navigation  of  this 
river  is  supposed  to  be,  we  met  with  obstructions  only  to 
make  light  of  and  overcome  them.  Not  an  accident  oc- 
curred,  except  that  a  stupid  «  middy"  was  caught  wan- 
dering too  far  from  his  fellows,  and  had  a  pair  of  French 
handcuffs  put  on  him.  It  was  not  till  the  27th  of  the 
month  that  we  effected  a  debarkation  of  ths  army.  The 
•pot  chosen  for  this  purpose  was  the  island  of  Orleans, 
•which  lies  a  little  below  the  town  of  Quebec,  and  nearly 
ia  the  centre  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  name  given  it 
by  merry  old  Jaques  Cartier— he  was  from  Brittany— the 
"Island  of  Bacchus,"  from  the  vines  laden  with  grapea 
which  h3  found  upon  it,  was  no  longer  applicable.  The 
beautiful  fields  of  grain  just  beginning  to  turn  yellow,  and 
orchards  of  half-formed  fruit,  which  were  now  its  rich  pro- 
ductions,  showed  that  the  worship  of  Pomona  and  Ceres 
had  been  substituted  for  that  of  the  jolly  god  of  wine. 

The  active  genius  and  mental  activity  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  left  no  time  for  repose.  There  never, 
perhaps,  was  a  man  endowed  with  more  energy  and  de- 
cision than  General  Wolfe.  We  were  scarcely  landed,  the 
disastrous  effects  of  a  tempestuous  gale  of  wind  repaired, 
and  the  dangers  arising  from  a  squadron  of  fireships  which 
came  drifting  down  upon  us,  on  the  night  of  the  28th,  pre- 
vented by  the  prudence  and  foresight  which,  equally  with 
valour  and,  in  the  proper  place,  excessive  daring,  were 
prime  qualities  of  Wolfe's  mind,  before  we  were  at  log- 
gerheads with  the  Frenchmen. 

Before  I  introduce  my  readers  to  a  field  of  victory  and 
■cenes  of  carnage,  I  must  be  allowed  to  attempt  a  brief 
description  of  a  place  rendered  famous  in  that  and  sue-' 
ceedhis  wars,  and  not  less  celebrated  for  the  bloody  con- 
flicts which  took  place  under  its  walls  than  for  the  beau- 


HAVERHILL. 


193 


isters,  but  were 
dition.  When 
that  seventeen 
ving  on  board 
to  combat,  had 
>afely  anchored 

the  rest  of  the 
ligation  of  this 
actions  only  to 
in  accident  oc- 
IS  caught  wan- 
pair  of  French 
tie  27th  of  the 
13  army.  The 
ind  of  Orleans, 
ec,  and  nearly 
name  given  it 
1  Brittany — the 
in  with  grapes 
tplicable.  The 
irn  yellow,  and 
ow  Its  rich  pro- 
lona  and  Ceres 
od  of  wine. 
Y  of  the  corn- 
There  never, 
energy  and  de- 
cely  landed,  the 
wind  repaired, 
fireships  which 
)f  the  28th,  pre- 
jh,  equally  with 
e  daring,  were 
jve  were  at  log- 

of  victory  and 
attempt  a  brief 
A  that  and  suc-^ 
the  bloody  con- 
ui  for  the  beau- 


tiful and  sublime  scenery, — the  bold,  rocky  steeps,  ro- 
mantic waterfalls,  noble  river,  and  other  objects  of  ex- 
ceeding natural  beauty  by  which  it  is  surrounded. 

Quebec  lies  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  and  twenty 
leagues  from  the  ocean.  It  is  situated  in  the  narrowest 
part  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  on  a  neck  or  peninsula  between 
Cape  Diamond  and  the  little  river  St.  Charles.  The 
name  has,  in  the  opinion  of  most,  rather  an  uncertain  de- 
rivation, for  it  may,  with  about  equal  propriety,  be  referred 
to  the  Algonquin  word  Quibeis,  signifying  a  "  straining," 
or  strait  (the  river  is  here  only  a  mile  in  breadth),  and 
to  the  Abenaquis  word  Quelibec,  which  signifies  "  a  place 
shut  up  or  concealed ;"  (it  is  nearly  hidden  from  the  east 
— the  point  by  which  the  Abenaquis  were  wont  to  ap- 
proach it.)  My  own  opinion  is  that  it  had  an  Abenaquis 
origin.  Indian  words  are  always  appropriate,  and  de- 
scribe the  most  prominent  feature  or  circumstance  with 
singular  truth.  The  Abenaquis  were  an  Acadian  tribe, 
who  came  to  Quebec  by  the  river  De  la  Chaudiere, 
between  which  and  the  south  channel  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
there  is  a  complete  interposition  of  the  high  grounds  of 
Point  Levi,  jutting  out  by  the  island  of  Orleans,  so  as  to 
hide  effectually  the  land-locked  waters  of  the  bay  or  basin 
of  Quebec.  This  is  not,  however,  of  much  consequence  : 
that  I  have  been  drawn  in  to  speak  of  it  at  all  is  that  others 
may  be  induced  to  speak  of  it  less,  and  so  that  prolixity  on 
a  subject  of  little  moment  may  be  banished  the  pages  of 
future  travellers  to  that  region. 

Quebec  was  founded  in  1608,  by  Champlain,  a  French- 
man, the  same  who  gave  his  name  to  an  extensive  lake  lying 
partly  in  Canada  and  partly  within  the  now  United  States. 
Its  progress  was  slow  at  first,  for  the  French  are  not  a  people 
who  colonize  with  rapidity,  or  advance  with  energy  to  the 
overthrow  of  obstacles  like  those  which  were  encountered 
by  the  first  settlers  in  the  woods  of  America. 

Fifty  years  after  the  occupation  by  Champlain  of  the 
present  site  of  the  city,  it  contained  but  twelve  hundred 
inhabitants,  of  whom  a  considerable  portion  were  priests 
and  nuns,  Recollects  and  Ursulines.  It  never  made  any 
considerable  advance  in  numbers  or  wealth  till  after  its 
occupation  by  Great  Britain.    Nor  has  it  smce  grown  with 

Vol.  I.- 17 


'?l 


.  i 


^^', 


till:  g* 


194 


HAVERHILL. 


I\       * 


'fi 


the  rapidity,  nor  attained  the  riches,  which  has  marked  the 
progress  ot'  scores  of  towns  in  North  America  which  were 
far  less  advantageously  situated  for  purposes  of  aggran- 
dizement. 

The  town  was  divided  into  two  parts — the  Upper  and 
the  Lower,  Both  were  strongly  fortified,  the  latter  by 
artificial  means,  the  former  by  the  double  defences  of  great 
natural  strength,  aided  by  the  professional  science  and 
ingenuity  for  which  the  French  have  long  been  remarkable, 
and  which  has  fenced  the  frontiers  of  France  with  a  chain 
of  impregnable  fortresses.  The  lower  town  might  be 
taken, — the  French  themselves  counted  upon  its  .speedy 
occupation  by  us.  It  was  their  policy  to  expend  little 
blood  upon  its  retention — indeed,  to  permit  its  capture, 
which  Would  lose  us,  for  any  useful  purposes,  the  services 
of  all  the  troops  employed  in  its  occupation.  The  device 
was,  however,  too  slightly  veiled  to  escape  the  keen  and 
wary  eye  of  the  commander-in-chief.  He  exerted  him- 
self, as  far  as  the  lower  town  was  concerned,  with  erect- 
ing batteries  of  cannon  and  mortar  upon  the  heights  of 
Point  Levi,  and  with  directing  an  incessant  cannonade  and 
bombardment.  Do  not  infer,  reader,  that  the  defences  of 
the  lower  town  had  been  altogether  neglected.  The  forti- 
fications, though  very  irregular,  were  strong.  Flanked  by 
two  bastions,  a  right  and  a  left,  at  high  tides  almost  level 
with  the  water,  the  right  bastion  having  above  it  a  half 
bastion,  cut  out  of  the  solid  rock,  and  a  little  higher  a  battery 
of  twenty-five  pieces  of  cannon  ;  "  the  Port,"  for  so  was 
the  lower  town  called,  might  have  been  deemed  a  position 
of  strength,  but  for  its  vicinity  to  and  consequent  compari- 
son with  one  which  had  long  been  supposed,  and  was 
nearly  proved  to  be,  impregnable.  In  the  hands  of  Britons 
it  would  have  been  quite  so ;  indeed,  it  afterward  easily 
withstood  the  American  troops  under  Montgomery.  It 
was  the  remark  of  an  officer  who  had  served  in  several 
European  wars,  "that  no  place  ever  possessed  greater 
benefits  of  nature  than  Upper  Quebec."  This  was  saying 
rather  too  much ;  for  Gibraltar  and  Xaminiec  are,  un- 
doubtedly, stronger  in  natural  defences,  and  both  Lisle  and 
Valenciennes  equal.  But  we  might  safely  concede  to  it, 
even  as  Wolfe  saw  it  on  the  13th  of  September,  1754, 


IS  marked  the 
n  which  were 
)s  of  aggran. 

e  Upper  and 
the  latter  by 
3nces  of  great 

science  and 
n  remarkable, 
!  with  a  chain 
wn  might  be 
)n  its  .speedy 
expend  little 
t  its  capture, 
,  the  services 

The  device 
the  keen  and 
exerted  him- 
d,  with  erect- 
he  heights  of 
annonade  and 
le  defences  of 
d.  The  forti- 
Flanked  by 

almost  level 
)Ove  it  a  half 
gher  a  battery 
"  for  so  was 
ned  a  position 
uent  compari- 
sed,  and  was 
nds  of  Britons 
erward  easily 
itgomery.  It 
ed  in  several 
iessed  greater 
his  was  saying 
iniec  are,  un- 
both  Lisle  and 
concede  to  it, 
tember,  1754, 


IIAV£RIIILL. 


190 


the  first  rank  among  second-rate  fortresses  of  strength. 
And  when  skilful  engineers  shall  have  done  fur  it  wimt 
Coehorn  did  for  Bcrgen-op-Zoom,  it  will  (hiscrvo  from  the 
belcaguerer  the  tribute  paid  by  the  great  Marlborough  to 
the  skill  and  science  of  that  eminent  engineer. 

The  citadel  stood  proudly  towering  above  all  the  various 
eminences.     It  bore  the  form  of  a  S(|u;ne,  and  was  the 
residence  of  the  governor-general  of  the  Canadas.     Be- 
tween the  citadel  and  the  fortifications  of  the  lower  town 
there  was  a  communication  by  several  very  rugged  and 
frequently-interrupted  passages,  one  of  which,  a  long  stair- 
case of  many  stone  steps,  was  used  lor  the  i)urj)ose  of 
drawing  up  the  heavy  articles  which  were  wanted  by 
those  occupying  the  citadel.     Several  batteries  of  <cannon 
and  mortars  defended  that  part  of  the  town  and  suburbs 
which  lay  along  the  road  leading  from  the  gate  of  St. 
Louis  to  the  bridge  across  the  St.  Charles.     A  curtain, 
drawn  aslant  from  the  right  angle  of  the  citadel,  and  facing 
the  town,  joined  a  steep  redoubt,  on  which  there  was  a  for- 
tified windmill,  capable,  in  the  hands  of  skill  and  courage, 
of  being  used  with  very  great  effect  upon  an  advancing 
foe.     Descending  from  thence,  and  within  ten  rods,  stood 
a  tower,  flanked  with  two  bastions  at  unequal  distances, 
and,  further  on,  another  similarly  protected.     Near  the 
palace  of  the  bishop  of  Quebec  stood  another  redoubt, 
planned  with  an  especial  eye  to  the  safety  of  the  living 
pillar  of  the  faith  intrusted  to  its  protection.     Another  re- 
doubt, upon  the  heights  of  Cape  Diamond,  completed  the 
landward  chain  of  fortifications,  and  rendered  the  upper 
town — in  the  opinion  of  its  possessors,  and  of  every  body 
else,  except  James  Wolf— capable  of  keeping  the  besiegers 
out  till  famine  and  the  ague — the  former  metaphorically, 
the  latter  literally — should  eat  them  up.     The  lower  town 
could  be  taken,  its  defences  were  fewer,  its  position  less 
commanding,  but  the  craggy  and  precipitous  rock  which 
separated  the  upper  town  from  the  port,  extending  itself, 
and  continuing  with  a  bold  and  steep  front  for  a  consider- 
able distance  along  the  St.  Lawrence,  seemed  to  offer 
insurmountable  obstacles  to  the  advancement  of  a  hostile 
force  upon  the  former.    Reference  to  the  map  will  verify 
my  remark  that  the  town  is,  in  fact,  built  upon  a  peninsula, 


(      V 


III 


196 


HAVERHILL. 


»/ 


•^•. 


its  sides  being  washed  by  two  rivers,  tlic  St.  Charles  and 
the  St.  Lawrence.  To  overcome  these  obstacles  we  must 
either  make  our  approaches  above  the  town,  and  ascend  a 
precipice  defended  by  the  whole  force  of  tlie  enemy,  or  wc 
must  cross  the  St.  Charles,  and  traverse  the  country  lying 
north  of  that  river — a  region  rough  and  broken  to  a  pro- 
verb, full  of  bogs,  ravines,  and  lesser  impediments,  and 
occupied  by  numerous  bands  of  warlike  savages,  most  at 
home  in  the  depths  of  a  forest,  and  most  eftective  where 
the  European  soldier  is  useless.  Such,  reader,  were  the 
difficulties  encountered,  and  eventually  overcome,  by  our 
little  band  of  Britons. 

The  several  positions  and  encampments  of  our  army  on 
the  morning  of  the  30th  of  July  were  briefly  these.  The 
main  body,  commanded  by  Generals  Townshend  and  Mur- 
ray, occupied  an  eminence  near  the  enemy's  left,  with  the 
river  and  falls  of  Montmorency  between  them.  General 
Monkton  remained,  with  his  brigade,  upon  the  point  of 
Levi,  and  Major  Hardy  continued  in  possession  of  the 
post  at  the  westernmost  part  of  the  island  of  Orleans, 
which  was  the  first  place  fortified  after  the  debarkation  of 
our  troops  on  the  27th  of  the  preceding  month.  Where 
was  I,  "  great  I,"  as  the  children  say  ?  I  will  tell  you. 
Promoted — for  what  I  cannot  say,  except  that  I  had  been 
picked  up  at  sea ! — to  a  lieutenancy  in  Bragg's  regiment, 
I  was  doing  duty  upon  Point  Levi,  watching  the  direction 
of  the  shells  and  other  deadly  missiles  we  were  hurling 
upon  the  devoted  heads  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  lower 
town  of  Quebec,  and  joining  might  and  main  in  the  hurrah 
rdised  when  the  splinters  were  seen  to  fly  and  chimneys  to 
disappear  before  our  well-directed  fire. 

As  I  hope  to  number  a  few  of  Neptune's  sons  among 
my  readers,  let  me,  for  their  use  and  behoof,  note  the  posi- 
tions of  the  several  divisions  of  the  fleet  at  the  same  junc- 
ture of  time.  In  front  of  the  cove  of  Sillery  lay  the  division 
of  Rear- Admiral  Holmes,  with  several  transports,  on  board 
of  which  were  troops  ready  to  be  landed  whenever  their 
services  should  be  required.  The  division  under  the  im- 
mediate eye  of  Sir  Charles  Saunders  were  anchored  in  the 
basin,  midway  between  Point  Levi  and  Point  Orleans,  and 
over  against  Major  Hardy's  insular  post.     The  Centurion, 


I!.  . 


HAVERHILL. 


19. 


t.  Charles  and 
■itaclcs  we  must 
1,  and  ascend  a 
D  enemy,  or  we 
3  country  lying 
roken  to  a  pro- 
ledimcnts,  and 
vages,  most  at 
iftbctive  where 
ader,  were  the 
jrcome,  by  our 

of  our  army  on 
ly  these.  The 
;hend  and  Mur- 
s  left,  with  the 
lem.  General 
1  the  point  of 
ssession  of  the 
id  of  Orleans, 
debarkation  of 
lonth.  Where 
[  will  tell  you. 
hat  I  had  been 
igg's  regiment, 
g  the  direction 
J  were  hurling 
of  the  lower 
n  in  the  hurrah 
nd  chimneys  to 

s's  sons  among 
',  note  the  posi- 
;he  same  junc- 
lay  the  division 
ports,  on  board 
i^henever  their 
under  the  im- 
nchored  in  the 
It  Orleans,  and 
['he  Centurion, 


fifty-four,  Captain  Mantell,  and  her  two  consorts,  were  an- 
chored between  Point  a  I'Jissay  and  the  mouth  of  the 
Montmorency,  as  near  the  shore  as  the  sandbank  which 
lines  that  side  of  the  river  would  permit  them  to  get.  The 
object  of  this  last  little  squadron  was  to  cover  our  medi- 
tated attack  upon  the  enemy  in  their  intrenchments.  The 
remainder  of  the  transports  lay  at  anchor  in  the  south 
channel  of  the  river,  abreast  of  the  centre  of  the  island  of 
Orleans,  and  as  much  out  of  harm's  way,  unless  we  should 
be  defeated,  as  if  they  had  been  lying  ui  Deptford-yard  or 
the  London-docks. 

Having  shown  the  strength  and  disposition  of  our  fleet 
and  army  on  the  day  before  the  battle  of  Montmorency, 
it  is  incumbent  on  me  to  do  the  like  by  that  of  our  enemy. 

They  were  ten  thousand  strong  in  regular  troops,  with 
two  thousand  Canadians  and  three  thousand  Intliang. 
They  were  posted  to  great  advantage,  a  part  occupying 
impregnable  situations,  and  the  positions  of  all  skilfully 
and  effectively  chosen.  Their  principal  camp  lay  along 
the  Beauport  shore,  from  the  river  St.  Charles  to  the  Falls 
of  Montmorency,  having  in  front  the  river  St.  Lawrence 
and  its  sandbanks,  and  in  the  rear  impracticable  woods  and 
morasses.  Not  only  was  this  position  one  of  perfect  secu- 
rity against  the  attacks  of  a  foe,  but  it  was  such  that  its 
occupiers  were  enabled  to  throw  succours  into  the  town 
at  various  points  and  whenever  they  chose.  Another  body 
was  encamped  at  the  Place  des  Armes,  by  the  river  St. 
Charles,  but  this,  perhaps,  should  be  regarded  as  a  contin- 
uation of  the  Beauport  chain  of  encampments  rather  than 
a  separate  and  individual  post.  The  savage  auxiliaries 
were  broken  into  as  many  "  camps"  as  there  were  tribes 
and  nations ;  they  dotted  the  entire  grounds  immediately 
in  the  rear  of  the  French  army. 

From  a  review  of  the  numbers  and  several  positions  of 
the  respecti\e  armies,  it  will  be  seen  how  greatly  superior 
the  enemy  were  in  all  that  constitutes  the  hopes  and 
strength  of  an  army.  But  the  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor 
the  battle  to  the  strong, — despite  of  numbers  and  fastnesses, 
there  were  many  of  us  who  lived  to  see  the  lion-standard 
waving  upon  those  seemingly  impregnable  trenches  and 
ramparts. 


u. 


(■■■» 


'  V 


198 


HAVERHILL. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


■'  ■.( 


T     I 


h  * 


Tut.  period  of  time  between  the  10th  and  30th  of  the 
month  was  passed,  hy  our  nrniy,  in  the  routine  of  duties 
common  to  the  Koldier  who  has  an  active  and  enterprising 
commander.  To  myself  it  was  a  period  of  exceeding  in- 
terest ;  for  I  was  studying  the  art  of  war  under  tlie  eye 
of  a  master — of  one  who,  apparently,  i»ad  taken  a  great 
hking  to  me,  and  who  would  be  my  friend,  and  push  my 
advancement  as  fast  and  as  far  as  I  deserved.  I  was  in 
tlic  enjoyment  of  vigorous  health,  had  the  world  before  me, 
and  began  to  hope  that  honours  and  Mary — they  were 
never  uncoupled- — might  yet  be  mine.  I  loved  all  that  I 
had  yet  seen  of  the  tented  field ;  loved  it  so  well  that  I 
pronounced  Horace  a  fool,  for  saying  so  many  hard  things 
against  war,  and  deemed  those  little  less  than  idiots  who 
preached  up  "  peace,  peace."  And  I  knew  myself  too 
well  to  fear  that  the  portion  of  military  service  and  adven- 
ture remaining  untasted  would  be  imbued  with  any  pe- 
culiar bitterness.     It  is  said — 

'"■fi    •     "  He  jests  at  scars  who  never  felt  a  wound ;" 

and  that  "  battles  fought  in  a  chimney-corner  are  usually 
less  bloody  than  actual  battles  ;"  both  of  which  speeches 
were  made,  I  suppose,  in  derision  of  those  who  boast  of 
courage  before  they  have  been  in  danger.  I  had  not  the 
least  doubt  that  I  should  remain,  as  I  had  always  been,  a 
stranger  to  fear.  I  longed  to  hear  the  roll  of  the  drum 
which  should  usher  in  the  morning  of  a  general  batt'c  ;  and 
if  there  were  moments  when  I  wished  it  might  bo  fur  a 
while  deferred,  it  was  only  when  I  recollected  how  -'a  li 
time  was  assisting  to  prepare  me  to  appear  with  advantage 
in  it.  During  the  period  between  the  28th  of  June  and 
the  30th  of  July,  we  were  engaged  in  frequent  skirmishes 
— principally  with  the  Indians,  in  every  one  of  which  I 
bore  a  p?Tt ;  and  thus  found  opportunities  to  acquire  the 
practic.!.!  i'ibits  find  feehngs  of  warfare. 


(1  30th  of  the 
tine  of  duties 
[1  enterprising 
exceeding  in- 
mdcr  the  eye 
taken  a  great 

and  push  my 
ed.  I  was  in 
rid  before  me, 
y — they  were 
ved  all  that  I 
10  well  that  I 
ly  hard  things 
m  idiots  who 
N  myself  too 
ce  and  adven- 

with  any  pe- 


er are  usually 
liich  speeches 
who  boast  of 
I  had  not  the 
Ivvays  been,  a 
of  the  drum 
•al  battel ;  and 
light  uc  for  a 
ed  h<"  "'u  -li 
ithauvuuiage 
I  of  June  and 
;nt  skirmishes 
e  of  which  I 
0  acquire  the 


HAVERHILL. 


199 


I  made,  during  this  period,  a  great  many  acquaintances, 
and  secured  the  friendship  of  several  distinguished  persons ; 
fur  the  great  will,  sometimes,  hold  out  a  hand  to  help  a 
poor  boy  out  of  the  slough  of  despond. 
,  Every  etVort  had  been  made  to  induro  the  enemy  to 
come  to  an  engagement,  but  without  etl'ect.  liatth;  had 
been  oftered  hini  repeatedly,  but  he  had  dc^elined.  There 
were  heights  which  apparently  commaiuh'd  the  intrench- 
mcnts  of  the  enejny  ;  and  it  was  hoped  that  they  might  bo 
made  available  to  our  jxirposc  of  forcing  battle  u[)on  him; 
but,  upon  r-r  onnjitruig  them,  it  was  found  that  they  could 
only  be  appiooched  by  grounds  which  were  so  steep  and 
woody,  n=«  to  oft'or  obstacles  nearly,  or  quite,  insurmount- 
able. 'liiG  design  was,  therefore,  abandoned ;  and  ano- 
ther,— that  of  passing  by  the  fords  above  and  below  the 
falls, — taken  up,  to  be  in  like  manner  suspended. 

Hopeless  of  enticing  or  decoying  the  enemy  into  an  en- 
gagement by  any  of  the  common  arts  and  stratagems  of 
war ;  and,  aware  that  their  aim  was  to  act  upon  the  de- 
fensive until  the  season  should  arrive  when  agues,  and 
chills,  and  fevers  would  be  sure  to  attlict  those  who  were 
unused  to  the  climate  ;  the  general  at  last  determined  to 
shut  his  eyes  to  the  difliculties  which  presented  themselves 
to  such  a  measure,  and  to  attack  his  opponents  in  their 
intrenchments  on  the  side  of  the  Montmorency.  Let  us 
pass  in  review  the  position  of  the  French  troops  at  that 
period  of  time ;  and,  in  doing  so,  once  more  glance  at  the 
natural  defences  of  the  town  of  Quebec.  I  may  seem  to 
be  minute  and  prolix  upon  this  point,  but  l4rust  I  shall  not 
be  too  much  so  for  those  who  read  for  profit.  It  was  a 
glorious  occasion,  and  one  which  covered  the  British  arms 
with  more  solid  and  substantial  reputation  than  any  other 
of  that  glorious  war,  though  it  embraced  a  more  extended 
scale  of  operations  than  any  mentioned  in  British  history. 

I ,...%  e  stated  Quebec  to  consist  of  two  towns — an  upper 
and  a  lower ;  the  lower  built  upon  a  strand,  at  the  foot 
of  a  lofty  rock,  upon  which  stands  the  upper,  encased  in 
barriers  of  granite,  in  some  places  four  hundred  feet  above 
the  surrounding  level.  This  rock  extended  along  the  river 
St.Lawrence  westward,  past  Cape  Diamond,  past  "Wolfe's 
Cove,"  until  it  reached  the  Point  of  Sillery.     Upon  the 


^ 


\ 


J 


..'i'^iM 


200 


HAVERmLL. 


!■»  '  L  i 


'1'  f 


11    ) 


opposite  side  of  the  town,  the  river  iSt.  Charles,  flowing 
from  the  north-west,  through  o.  country  rough,  broken,  and 
difficult,  full  of  gullies,  rivulets,  and  ravines,  paid  its  tribute 
to  tiie  larger  river,  washing  the  foot  of  the  before-mention- 
ed precipice.  From  this  statement,  which,  though  not 
professional  in  its  phraseology,  1  believe  is  correct  in  its 
details,  it  will  be  seen,  that  he  would  carry  the  town  by 
what  the  French  call  a  coup  de  main — a  sudden  or  bold 
enterprise, — must  make  his  approaches  above  it,  and  ascend 
the  lofty  and  rugged  precipice ;  or  he  must  overcome  the 
difficulties  upon  the  Beauport  side,  and  thread  the  mazes, 
and  ford  tiie  rivulets  of  the  wild  region  behind  the  St. 
Charles.  If  the  former  measure  were  attempted,  the  diffi- 
culties  of  the  precipice,  defended  by  the  whole  force  of  the 
enemy, — a  force  double  in  number  to  our  own, — must  be 
overcome.  If  we  attempted  the  latter  process,  of  invest- 
ing the  town,  we  must  first  land  our  army  upon  the  Beau- 
port  shore,  to  approach  which  a  sandbank  of  great  width 
and  extent  must  first  be  over«"ome  ;  and  subsequently,  the 
almost  impassable  savannas,  muddy  rivulets,  and  a  hundred 
other  obstacles  of  the  region  watered  by  the  St.  Charles. 
In  this  advantageous  position  the  French  army  were 
posted  on  the  morning  of  the  31st  of  July.  The  position 
they  had  taken  was  strengthened  by  every  species  of 
available  intrenchment  at  every  spot  where  attack  might 
be  expected.  In  front  of  them  lay  the  St.  Lawrence,  with 
its  sandbanks;  in  their  rear  an  impenetrable  forest.  It  is 
impossible  to  imagine  a  stronger  post,  or  one  better  cal- 
culated  for  succouring  an  endangered  town,  on  whichso- 
ever side  it  should  be  attacked.  Add  to  this  their  superior 
numbers — withal,  recollect  the  fable  of  the  "cock  fighting 
on  his  own  dunghill,"  and  a  just  estimate  of  our  difficulties 
may  be  formed.  Our  army  consisted  altogether  of  less 
than  seven  thousand  men  ;  and  of  these,  fifteen  hundred 
were  provincials,  or  undisciplined  militiamen,  from  the 
colonies.  Our  brave  and  vigilant  opponent  commanded  a 
force  variously  rated  at  from  twelve  to  fifteen  thousand, 
exclusive  of  two  thousand  Indians,  whose  extreme  subtle- 
ness, sudden  onsets,  and  ferocious  revenge — shouts,  paints, 
bloodthirstiness,  and  secrecy,  rendered  them  more  terrific 
to  a  European  army  than  double  the  number  of  well- 


HAVERHILL. 


201 


hailes,  flowing 
2;h,  broken,  and 

paid  its  tribute 
efore-mention- 
;h,  thougii  not 

correct  in  its 
y  the  town  by 
udden  or  bold 
e  it,  and  ascend 
;  overcome  the 
3ad  the  mazes, 
jehind  the  St, 
opted,  the  difti- 
)le  force  of  the 
3wn, — must  be 
cess,  of  invest- 
ipon  the  Beau- 
)f  great  width 
jscquently,  the 

and  a  hundred 
le  St.  Charles. 
;h  army  were 
The  position 
ery  species  of 
e  attack  might 
■awrence,  with 
e  forest.  It  is 
)ne  better  cal- 
n,  on  whichso- 
3  their  superior 
"  cock  fighting 

our  difficulties 
ogether  of  less 
ifteen  hundred 
nen,  from  the 

commanded  a 
iteen  thousand, 
sxtreme  subtle- 
-shouts,  paints, 
1  more  terrific 
Kiber  of  well- 


appointed  European  soldiers.  Their  recent  defeat  of  Brad- 
dock,  and  the  bloody  massacre  of  the  garrison  of  Fort 
William  Henry,  had  caused  our  army  to  regard  them  with 
peculiar  bitterness,  and  not  a  little  terror. 

The  worst  effect  of  the  difficulties  which  impeded  our 
progress  was,  that  the  general  grew  discouraged,  and  his 
temper,  naturally  lively  and  impetuous,  became  clouded 
and  irritable.  Not  that  he  relaxed  in  his  endeavours  to 
accomplish  the  objects  of  the  expedition.  He  remained 
firm  in  his  resolution  to  leave  nothing  unattempted  to  en- 
sure success,  but  cmidst  the  choice  of  diflftculties  which  lay 
before  him,  to  elect  those  which  would  afford  his  troops  the 
fairest  opportunity  for  a  display  of  that  undaunted  valour 
which  Britons  are  sure  to  make  whenever  an  occasion 
offers,  demanding  the  full  employment  of  their  energies. 
Nevertheless,  his  temper  was  soured,  and  he  was  mise- 
rable. 

An  incident  occurred  soon  after  the  temiination  of  on6 
of  our  Indian  skirmishes,  which  I  deem  worth  relating, 
though  it  be  in  defiance  of  my  own  abhorrence  of  episodes. 
It  led  to  the  display,  on  the  part  of  a  young  Indian  girl,  of 
a  feeling  which  redeemed,  in  some  measure,  the  character 
of  that  people  from  the  imputation  of  being  "  all  evil." 

During  my  Canadian  campaign,  I  frequently  witnessed 
instances  of  extraordinary  love  and  affection  in  Indian 
women  for  the  white  men  who  had  taken  them  to  wife,  or 
formed  temporary  connexions  with  them.  It  is  known  to 
be  a  common  practice  with  the  traders  among  the  Indians, 
as  well  as  with  the  officers  at  the  outposts,  to  connect 
themselves  with  Indian  females  during  their  stay  in  the 
country.  I  knew,  among  the  former,  many  instances 
where  the  connexion,  after  continuing  for  years  without  the 
essential  civil  rite,  was  afterward  honourably  legalized, 
and  dissolved  but  with  life.  I  remember,  among  the  latter, 
but  one  instance  of  conduct  so  just  and  noble.  The  cir- 
cumstances attending  this  solitary  exception  developed 
traits  of  affection,  constancy,  and  devotion  so  deep  and  ab- 
sorbing, that  I  am  induced  to  record  them,  that  due  hon- 
our may  be  rendered  to  the  little  forest  maiden  by  whom 
they  were  displayed.  It  will  do  more — it  will  tend  to  en- 
lighten the  world  as  to  the  character  of  the  original  possess- 


,<  >k 


te 


if  1 


Ui 


■■—-*«*-tf  .»- 


««.■•«■•«  -^-.tiimyLlWr*'- 


202 


HAVERHILL. 


h 


■I  .ft 


:::kj 


n' 


It'  i 


ors  of  the  wilds  of  America.  It  will  show  what  they  were 
capable  of  achieving  for  love  and  affection,  thus  furnishing, 
in  some  measure,  an  offset  to  the  undoubted  records  of 
their  oftentimes  not  unreasonable  spirit  of  wrath  and  re- 
venge. Due  honour  has  seldom  been  rendered  to  the  abo- 
rigines of  North  America — the  "  lion  has  had  no  painter." 
Their  extreme  fierceness  and  addictiveness  to  war  have  led 
superficial  observers  to  suppose  that  they  are  entirely  with- 
out the  softer  feelings  of  liumanity.  It  is  a  mistaken  idea. 
Custom  may  have  controlled,  or  prevented  the  exhibition 
of  them,  but  their  hearts  wear  the  impression  of  many  noble 
qualities. 

In  Amherst's  battalion  there  was  a  young  ensign  whose 
amiable  deportment  and  good  conduct,  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duties,  had  procured  for  him  the  esteem  of  all  who 
knew  him.  James  Borlase  was  the  fourth  son  of  a  poor 
curate,  possessed  of  a  living  of  forty  pounds  a  year,  in  one 
df  the  poorest  counties  in  England.  It  was  his  good 
fortune,  liowever,  while  yet  a  mere  boy,  to  attract  the 
notice  of  a  neighbouring  gentleman  of  property  and  be- 
nevolent disposition,  who,  finding  him  possessed  of  fine 
talents  and  a  most  generous  heart,  took  him  home,  and, 
after  the  fitting  preparation,  sent  him  to  Cambridge  with 
an  allowance  of  money  far  beyond  his  requirements.  He 
led  a  very  studious  life  at  college,  and  gained  great  praise 
by  his  progress  in  all  the  branches  of  academic  learning. 
When  he  had  finished  his  education,  finding  him  disinclined 
to  adopt  the  clerical  profession — the  church  was  his  origi- 
nal destination — and  bent  upon  entering  the  army,  his  kind 
benefactor  purchased  a  commission  for  him  in  a  regiment 
then  under  orders  for  Canada.  The  finger  of  ambition 
pointed  to  the  east — it  was  there  military  honours  were 
easiest  acquired,  and  nowhere  else  could  military  men 
amass  fortunes,  but  his  parents,  who,  in  surrendering  the 
guardianship  of  their  child,  had  not  divested  themselves  of 
the  love  and  affection  which  attend  the  parental  relation, 
recollected  that  in  British  India,  tigers,  the  cholera  morbus, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing  outrun  preferment  and  money- 
making,  and  they  prevailed  on  Charles  to  exchange  the 
East  for  hyperborean  regions. 

In  one  of  our  skirmishes  with  the  savages,  it  was  our 


'(■ 


what  they  were 
tlius  furnishing, 
bted  records  of 
i"  wrath  and  re- 
ared to  the  abo- 
lad  no  painter." 
to  war  have  led 
re  entirely  with- 
a  mistaken  idea. 
1  the  exhibition 
>n  of  many  noble 

jg  ensign  whose 
the  discharge  of 
eem  of  all  who 
th  son  of  a  poor 
Is  a  year,  in  one 
t  was  his  good 
,  to  attract  the 
'operty  and  be- 
ossessed  of  fine 
him  home,  and, 
I^ambridge  with 
uirements.  He 
ned  great  praise 
demic  learning. 
5  him  disinclined 
ch  was  his  origi- 
le  army,  his  kind 
m  in  a  regiment 
iger  of  ambition 
y  honours  were 
id  military  men 
surrendering  the 
!d  themselves  of 
arental  relation, 
cholera  morbus, 
3nt  and  money- 
;o  exchange  the 

'ages,  it  was  our 


HAVERHILL.  203 

fortune  to  take  captive  an  Indian  woman  and  her  daughter, 
and  they  were  brought  to  the  camp.  A  negotiation  for 
their  release  was  set  on  foot  by  the  tribe  to  which  they  be- 
longed, a  large  body  of  whom  attended  the  ambassadors. 
\s  the  Indians  never  come  near  an  assembly  of  white  men 
without  indulging  in  a  fit  of  drunkenness,  that  is,  if  liquor 
can  be  procured,  it  was  expected  that  they  would  abandon 
themselves  as  usual  to  a  horrid  revel,  and  oflicers  were  ap- 
pointed to  watch  over  them,  of  whom  Borlase  was  one. 

Vigilance  and  circumspection,  qualities  so  essential  to  the 
rise  of  an  unbefriended  soldier,  were  the  conspicuous  traits 
of  his  mind,  and,  knowing  their  value,  on  these,  together 
with  prudent  courage,  he  relied  for  advancement.  Going 
out  on  his  turn  of  observation  late  in  the  evening  of  the 
second  day  after  the  arrival  of  the  Indians — upon  the  first, 
measures  had  been  taken  to  keep  them  sober, — to  that  part 
of  the  camp  where  they  were  holding  their  festival  of  song, 
dance,  and  sacrifice,  and  with  the  proverbial  single-mind- 
edness  of  drunken  men,  devoting  their  most  valued  pos- 
sessions to  the  worship  of  their  gods,  he  saw  the  soldiers 
who  had  been  set  as  a  guard  over  them,  ill-treating,  both 
with  harsh  language  and  blows,  the  young  Huron  girl, 
whose  friends,  enfeebled  by  their  debauch,  no  longer  pos- 
sessed the  power  to  protect  her.  The  timid  girl,— with  the 
natural  instinct  which  prompts  us  to  fly  from  present  dan- 
ger, though  it  may  occasion  us  but  trifling  inconvenience 
to  that  more  remote,  yet  beset  with  ruin  and  disgrace, — no 
sooner  saw  that  there  was  a  stranger  approaching  than  she 
flew  to  his  side,  and  with  many  tears  and  intreaties,  be- 
sought his  protection.  She  had  learned  a  little  English, 
nt  made  herself  far  more  intelligible  by  her  actions  than 
3r  words.  The  young  officer  assured  her  that  she  should 
meet  with  no  harm,  and  having  succeeded  in  removing  her 
fears  and  restoring  her  to  cheerfulness  and  confidence,  he 
remained  protecting  her  until  the  soldiers  had  retirved,  the 
English  camp  had  become  still,  and  the  drunken  sounds  of 
her  own  people  were  hushed  in  the  quiet  that  follows  the 
Dverpowering  draught.  Satisfied  with  himself  for  the  part 
he  had  taken,  he  set  out  upon  his  return  to  his  quarters. 
He  soon  found  that  his  dark  little  protegee  had  no  inten- 
:>n  of  being  shaken  off*  by  him.     She  was  continually  at 


r-^    ^lrt#«».^^* 


f 


■-*•, 


;*• 


;il 


W. 


II 


i 

H 


ri 


M 


204 


HAVERHILL. 


his  side  while  returning,  now  looking  up  fondly  in  his  face, 
upon  which  the  various  camp-fires  threw  a  partial  light,  now 
taking  his  hand  with  an  innocent  laugh,  and  now  skipping 
ahead  with  the  lightness  of  the  fawn,  to  ascertain,  and  make 
report  of  the  best  and  nearest  path. 

Fearing  the  ridicule  of  his  military  associates,-- -their  ridi. 
cule  is  as  easily  excited  as  it  is  dangerous  to  excite  it,— he 
attempted  to  persuade  her,  but  in  vain,  to  return  to  her  own 
people.  Upon  his  speaking  in  r;ither  an  angry  tone,  she 
fell  to  weeping  bitterly.  In  spite  of  his  remonstrances— 
the  utmost  length  to  which  he  could  proceed — for  a  soldier, 
a  kind-hearted  one,  too,  would  be  ashamed  to  apply  a  whip 
to  a  woman — she  accompanied  him  to  his  tent.  When  he 
had  shut  the  door  in  her  face,  he  supposed  their  acquaint- 
ance had  terminated,  and  that  he  might  congratulate  him- 
self  upon  the  withdrawal  of  those  attentions  which,  if  fur- 
ther persisted  in,  would  be  likely  to  draw  down  upon  him 
a  torrent  of  ridicule.  Not  so ;  the  next  morning  he  found 
her  sitting  at  the  door  of  his  tent,  where  she  had  passed  the 
night.  She  welcomed  him  with  all  those  symptoms  of 
eawer  delight  with  which  children  testify  their  joy  at  meet- 
ing friend's  who  have  been  absent  from  them  for  a  long 
time,  skipping  about  like  a  lamb,  clapping  her  hands,  and 
acting  a  thousand  other  extravagances,  denoting  the  depth 
and  fulness  of  her  innocent  joy  at  beholding  her  friend  and 
protector.  . 

Borlase  had  now  an  opportunity  to  examine  her  tea- 

tures, and  I  require  full  credit  for  my  assertion  that  he 

had  never  beheld  lovelier,  or  seen  in  one  person  a  more 
splendid  array  of  female  charms  than  were  exhibited  in  the 
face,  form,  walk,  and  air  of  this  little  Huron  maiden.  Ta- 
toka,  or  "the  Antelope,"  as  she  was  called,  from  the  light- 
ness of  her  step,  and  well  did  she  deserve  the  appellation, 
was  not  more  than  sixteen,  yet  she  had  shot  up  like  the 
flowers  of  her  native  prairies,  to  the  height  which  is  only 
esteemed  second  to  the  loftiest  of  female  statures  in  Euro- 
pean countries.  Her  skin  was  scarce  darker  than  that  of 
a  very  dark  Italian  lady,  her  teeth  white  and  even,  her  eyes 
of  a  mild  hazel,  her  hands  and  feet  small  and  beautifully 
proportioned,  and  her  long  raven-black  hair,  as  it  swept  her 
finely  turned  shoulders,  was  the  most  beautiful  I  had  ever 


^■mmr-^t:..  .-&-*■■.»• 


HAVERHILL. 


205 


seen.  When  to  these  charms  was  added  that  of  loving  him 
intensely,  it  is  not  strange  that  she  made  a  very  deep  im- 
pression on  his  heart.  Yet  she  was  the  daughter  of  an 
Indian,  and  though  that  Indian  was  a  chief,  and  the  ruler 
of  a  nation,  the  pride  of  the  young  soldier  revolted  at  the 
thought  of  what  would  be  said  of  him  by  his  friends  and 
connexions  in  England,  should  he  marry  an  Indian.  He 
continued,  though  at  the  expense  of  his  feelings,  to  repress 
her  fondness,  and  check  by  every  means  in  his  power  her 
demonstrations  of  love.  He  said  every  thing  which  he 
thought  likely  to  arouse  her  pride,  or  awaken  her  resent- 
ment, but  in  vain.  She  clung  to  him  as  a  mother  clings 
to  her  child,  was  cheerful  and  happy  if  permitted  to  ap- 
proach but  as  near  to  him  as  a  dozen  feet,  but  became 
frantic  with  grief  if  any  attempt  were  made  to  force  her 
from  him. 

It  was  sweet,  but  affecting,  and  excited  the  pity  and 
admiration  of  all  whose  hearts  were  not  made  of  impene- 
trable stuff,  to  mark  the  movements  of  the  gentle  passion 
in  this  child  of  nature.  I  do  not  believe  that  in  all  the  walks 
of  romance  in  any  of  the  fabled  chronicles  of  love,  there 
could  be  found  any  thing  to  surpass  the  apparent  fervency 
of  her  affection — and  no  one  for  a  moment  supposed  it 
assumed.  If  he  walked  out,  she  was  at  his  side,  or  wheel- 
ing like  a  hound  in  playful  circles  around  him ;  if  he  re- 
posed, she  was  at  his  feet.  If  she  was  permitted  to  enter 
his  tent,  she  did  so ;  if  not,  she  sat  down  at  the  door,  and 
awaited  patiently  the  moment  whcrr  she  could  again  see 
the  face  which,  to  use  her  own  metaphofical  language,  was 
"  more  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  Tatoka  than  the  sun,  or  the 
moon,  or  the  stars,  or  the  flowers."  While  he  was  eating 
his  meals  she  sat  by  him,  and  watched  every  mouthful  he 
ate  with  an  appearance  of  the  deepest  satisfaction — but 
would  eat  nothing  herself  till  he  had  done.  She  would 
then  make  it  her  first  care  to  secure  to  herself  the  frag- 
ments of  every  thing  he  had  touched,  as  if  that  touch  had 
communicated  to  it  an  especial  sweetness. 

It  is  known  that  the  motive  must  be  very  strong  which 
induces  an  Indian,  of  either  sex,  to  pay  any  attention  to 
cleanliness.  They  will  bestow  infinite  care  upon  the  adorn- 
ment of  their  persons,  but  there  they  pause,     Tatoka  was 

Vol.  I.— 18 


■1 


I 


'{> 


206 


HAVERniLL. 


\t 


4.^ 


H 


•A- 


not,  at  the  time  of  her  introduction  into  our  camp,  more 
remarkable  than  the  rest  of  lier  race  for  that  which  will 
add  a  perfume  even  to  the  rose,  which  is  always  sweetest 
after  a  shower.  But  when  the  man  she  loTed  had  told  her 
of  the  care  wliich  the  women  of  his  country  bestowed 
upon  cleanliness,  and  of  their  frequent  ablutions  of  their 
persons,  and  changings  of  their  dress,  she  exerted  herself 
to  give  effect  to  her  charms  to  an  extent  which  would  have 
made  it  a  crying  evil  had  there  been  any  essential  duty  for 
it  to  interfere  with.  Thenceforth  her  ablutions  were  end- 
less. Every  day,  and  it  was  all  for  him— how  delightful 
the  idea  that  one  should  be  so  beloved ! — the  dressed  her 
hair  with  beads,  and  flowers,  and  feathers,  and  laced  up  her 
rainbow-tinted  moccasins  with  ribands,  the  gayest  she 
could  procure  in  a  place  where  French  taste  presided.  If 
he  particularly  noticed  any  flower,  it  was  found  and  given 
him — if  he  bestowed  a  commendation  warmer  than  usual 
upon  any  article  of  her  dress,  she  said  nothing,  but  thence- 
forth wore  that  alone  till  he  intimated  his  wish  that  she 
should  change  it. 

Nature  had  taught  her  the  power  of  music  to  soothe  the 
mind  when  depressed,  and  whenever  she  saw  the  cloud 
upon  his  countenance  which  visits,  more  or  less,  the  coun- 
tenances of  all,  she  tried  upon  him  the  eflfect  of  song.  At 
such  times  she  would  commence  singing  one  of  those  wild, 
but  beautiful  and  plaintive  Indian  melodies,  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  translate  into  the  English,  or  any  other  language, 
without  losing  much  of  their  sweetness  and  effect.  They 
are,  in  general,  transcripts  of  feelings,  or  records  of  events, 
told  in  a  style  of  simple  and  unadorned  metaphor,  and 
without  an  attempt  at  producing  the  "consonance  of 
verses"  which  has  imparted  so  much  richness  to  the  culti- 
vated languages.  The  following  is  one  of  the  beautiful  Ta- 
toka'ti  songs.  While  it  is  characteristic,  it  serves  to  show 
the  peculiar  state  of  her  feelings.  It  will  be  seen  that  all 
tlie  metaphors  are  natural,  and  all  the  figures  drawn  from 
natural  objects. 

Beautiful  is  he ! 
Oh,  he  is  very  beautiful ! 
I  love  him  much,  and  ho 
To  me  is  the  tall  oak 


-.s-ir 


.^r-K*. 


"^k'"*'lM(rt"' 


HAVERHILL. 


207 


'  camp,  more 
lat  which  will 
iviiys  sweetest 
d  had  told  her 
itry  bestowed 
itions  of  their 
xerted  herself 
ch  would  iiave 
Bntial  duty  for 
ons  were  end- 
how  delightful 
e  dressed  her 
id  laced  up  her 
le  gayest  she 
;  presided.  If 
und  and  given 
ner  than  usual 
ig,  but  thence- 
wish  that  she 

c  to  soothe  the 
saw  the  cloud 
less,  the  coun- 
t  of  song.  At 
3  of  those  wild, 
which  it  is  im- 
3ther  language, 
effect.  They 
;ords  of  events, 
metaphor,  and 
consonance  of 
3SS  to  the  culti- 
le  beautiful  Ta- 
serves  to  show 
)e  seen  that  all 
es  drawn  from 


Which  throws  its  long  dark  boughi 

O'er  the  swift  streamlet's  bank. 

He  is  to  me  the  sun, 

And  moon,  and  glittering  stars 

Which  shine  so  very  bright, 

liighting  up  the  skies  at  night, 

Making  glad  the  birds. 

Making  glad  the  flowers, 

Making  all  things  glad. 

Beautiful  is  he ! 

Oh,  he  is  very  beautiful  I 

Beautiful  is  he  ! 

Oh,  he  is  very  beautiful ! 

Tall  and  graceful  as  the  pine, 

Merry  as  the  lark, 

Swifter  than  the  buck, 

His  eye  the  mountain  goat's, 

His  skin  the  water-lily's, 

His  hair  the  western  clouds  at  ftre, 

His  lips  a  rose-leaf  dew'd. 

Beautiful  it  he  ! 

Oh,  be  is  very  beautiful ! 

Brave  and  good  is  he ! 

Oh,  he  is  very  good  and  br&ve ! 

And  h«  is  very  wise. 

And  fit  to  be  a  chief; 

And  he  is  very  bold. 

And  fit  to  lead  a  band 

Of  Huron  warriors,  and  to  scalp 

A  hundred  of  his  foes. 

Cunning  as  a  fox, 

Bloody  as  a  wolf. 

Fearless  as  a  carcajou. 

Keen-eyed  as  a  hawk. 

Brave  and  good  is  he  ! 

Oh,  he  is  very  good  and  brave ! 

Love  him,  how  I  do, 

Oh,  how  I  do  love  him  ; 

A  mother  loves  her  babe 

Not  so  as  I  love  him; 

The  warrior  loves  the  battle  shout 

Less  than  I  love  this  Yengeese*  boy. 

He  does  not  know  my  love, 

Nor  pities  he  my  love, 

Because  he  does  not  love. 

Why  will  he  not  Tatoka  love. 

The  little  Huron  girl  ? 

Beautiful  is  he ! 

Oh,  he  is  very  beautiful ! 

*  Yengeese — English. 


I  .1 


-H 


% 


I' 


r  S* 


208 


HAVERHILL. 


- » 

I- 


It  seemed  as  if  it  were  impossible  for  her  to  exist  out  of 
his  sight.  She  continued  to  follow  him  whithersoever  he 
ivent—she  was  at  his  feet  when  he  sat  down,  near  him 
when  he  rose,  in  his  path  when  he  walked,  and  at  length 
by  his  side  when  he  slept.  If  she  left  him  for  a  moment, 
it  was  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  something  which  should . 
further  testify  her  atfection  for  him.  It  was  now  the  sea- 
son of  the  earlier  berries  and  wild  fruit,  and  she  was  out 
for  hours  every  day  in  the  fields,  gathering  the  ripest  for 
him.  Sometimes,  while  employed  in  tiie  delightful  task,  it 
would  occur  to  her  that  he  might  have  gone  away  during 
her  absence,  when  she  would  utter  a  loud  scream,  burst 
into  tears,  and  run  with  the  fleotncss  of  a  deer,  to  see  if  the 
suspicion  were  true  or  not.  Poor  thing !  She  had  been 
found  by  him  one  of  the  lightest  hearted  beings  that  ever 
breathed,  and  now  her  whole  soul  was  filled  with  sorrow 
and  wretchedness,  enlivened  indeed  by  occasional  but 
transient  periods  of  perfect  happiness.  She  became  his 
companion— in  the  Canadian  sense  of  the  word — need  I 
say  more. 


U    I 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Aftbr  a  couple  of  digressions,  and  not  a  little  prosing, 
I  find  myself  at  leisure  to  attempt  a  description  of  the 
scenes  of  field  and  flood  which  ensued  subsequent  to  the 
30th  of  July. 

It  was  apparent  that  Montcalm  was  well  aware  of  the 
object  of  our  frequent  manoeuvres,  and  that  it  was  his 
determination  to  act  upon  the  defensive,  until  famine  and 
the  ague  should  do  for  us  what  Macbeth  wished  them  to 
do  for  the  leaguerers  of  Glamis.  Thus  circumstanced, 
and  knowing  that  delay  would  but  enhance  present  diffi- 
culties, and  be  continually  adding  fresh  ones,  he  came  at 
length  to  the  resolution  of  attacking  them  on  the  side  of 
the  Montmorency. 

The  place  where  the  attack  was  to  be  made  was  chosen 


r.|»*-*f.- 


mm 


r  to  exist  out  of 
litliersoever  he 
nvn,  near  him 
,  and  at  length 
for  a  moment, 
g  which  should 
s  now  the  sea- 
iid  she  was  out 

the  ripest  for 
elightful  task,  it 
le  away  during 

scream,  burst 
:er,  to  see  if  the 
She  had  been 
cings  that  ever 
id  with  sorrow 
occasional  but 
he  became  his 
word — need  I 


I  little  prosing, 
cription  of  the 
sequent  to  the 

I  aware  of  the 
hat  it  was  his 
itil  famine  and 
ished  them  to 
jircumstanced, 
e  present  diffi- 
5S,  he  came  at 
on  the  side  of 

de  was  chosen 


HAVERHILL. 


209 


with  great  judgment,  though  it  is  difficult  to  convey  even  a 
tolerable  idea,  and  utterly  impossible  to  give  an  exact  des- 
cription of  it.  The  banks  of  the  Montmorency  are  very 
steep  and  precipitous,  especially  the  left  bank,  which  was 
held  by  the  flower  of  the  French  army.  But  nobody 
thought  of  obstacles,  and  our  troops,  havmg  ascended  the 
St.  Lawrence  and  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  former  river, 
erected  batteries  during  the  night  of  the  31st,  on  the  high 
precipice  north-east  of  the  falls.  Behold  us,  then,  ready  for 
and  on  the  eve  of  action.  Oh,  how  I  hugged  my  (in  ima- 
gination) glorious  destiny !  I  was  lifted  up  to  the  skies  at 
the  thought  that  I  should  be  handed  down  to  future  times 
as  one  of  the  "  heroes  of  Montmorency,"  and  already  felt 
an  epaulet  sprouting  upon  each  shoulder.  I  will  not 
attempt  to  disguise  that  my  dream  of  martial  honour  and 
prowess  faded  (the  youthful  will  say  brightened)  into  a 
vision  of  maiden  love  and  beauty,  and  that  Bellona  for  a 
moment  laid  aside  her  name,  whip,  torch,  and  dishevelled 
hair,  to  call  herself  Mary,  aid  to  put  a  bridal-morning  cap 
and  ribands  upon  a  head  clustering  with  auburn  ringlets. 

To  describe  the  first  movements  of  our  troops  in  the 
offensive,  I  cannot  do  better  than  to  adopt  the  clear  and 
forcible  language  of  the  general,  as  contained  in  his  cele- 
brated despatch  of  September  2d.*  His  words  are: — 
"  The  31st  of  July,  in  the  afternoon,  the  boats  of  the  fleet 
were  filled  with  grenadiers  and  a  part  of  General  Monckton's 
brigade  from  the  Point  of  Levi :  the  two  brigades  under  the 
Brigadiers  Townshend  and  Murray  were  ordered  to  be  in 
readiness  to  pass  the  ford  when  it  should  be  thought  ne- 
cessary. To  facilitate  the  passage  of  this  corps,  the 
admiral  had  placed  the  Centurion  in  the  channel,  so  that 

*  Horace  Walpole  censures  !  this  despatch  strongly  in  his  Memoirs. 
» In  the  most  artful  terms  that  could  be  framed,  he  (Wolfe)  left  the 
nation  uncertain  whether  he  meant  to  prepare  an  excuse  for  desisting, 
or  to  claim  the  melancholy  merit  of  having  sacrificed  himself  without 
a  prospect  of  success."  In  a  subsequent  passage  he  rather  seems  to 
praise  the  fallen  hero,  but  the  commendation  is  clearly  introduced  for 
the  purpose  of  attacking  General  Townshend,  or  rather,  his  brother 
Charles. 

I  shall  cause  the  letter  alluded  to  by  Walpole  to  be  printed  at  the 
end  of  the  work,  tiiat  my  readers  may  see  how  little  it  deserves  tb9 
censure  this  writtr  has  bsstowed  upon  it. 

18* 


f 


M 
m 


210 


UATERHILL. 


■he  might  check  the  fire  of  the  lower  battery,  which  com- 
manded the  ford.  A  great  number  of  cannon  were  placed 
upon  the  eminence,  so  as  to  batter  and  enfilade  the  left  of 
their  intrenchments." 

These  dispositions  being  made,  every  thing  was  in  readi- 
ness for  action.  There  was,  near  the  water's  edge,  a 
detached  redoubt,  so  fully  commanded  by  the  artillery  of 
the  enemy  that  it  could  neither  be  taken  or  kept  without 
much  bloodshed,  and  yet  its  possession  was  essential  to  our 
object  of  forcing  a  general  action  upon  our  adversaries. 
It  was  situated  a  little  more  than  a  musket-shot  from  their 

Erjncipal  post ;  should  they  contest  its  possession,  it  must 
ring  on  the  battle  we  so  ardently  wished  for ;  should  they 
make  no  opposition  to  its  occupation  by  us,  it  would  afford 
us  the  required  opportunity  to  examine  their  situation,  so  as 
to  be  able  to  determine  where  we  could  best  attack  them. 
Yet,  all-important  as  it  was  that  we  should  possess  this 
redoubt,  the  general  long  hesitated  to  attack  it,— not  from 
personal  fear — he  never  knew  the  feeling, — but  from  a 
hope  of  accomplishing  his  object  with  a  less  effusion  of 
blood  than  must  attend  the  storming  an  intrenchment  at 
such  fearful  odds.  He  took  up  his  quarters  on  board  one 
of  the  ships  which  he  had  caused  to  be  anchored  in  the 
channel,  abreast  of  the  lower  battery,  and  from  this  point 
employed  himself  in  observation  of  the  temper  and  move- 
ments of  his  opponents.  He  soon  saw — how  rapid  and 
intuitive  were  his  perceptions,  and  how  wise  and  rational 
his  deductions ! — that  the  dispositions  and  motions  of  our 
troops,  our  apparent  eagerness  and  preparedness  for  com- 
bat, aided  a  little,  perhaps,  by  sundry  recollections  of 
"lang  syne,"  had  thrown  the  enemy  into  considerable 
confusion,  and  deprived  them  of  the  soldier's  best  friend, 
self-possession.  Remarking,  withal,  that  our  own  army 
were  prepared  for  action,  were  in  high  glee,  and  filled  with 
brilliant  anticipation  of  victory,  he  changed  his  mind,— 
which  a  few  minutes  before  was  occupied  in  planning  the 
withdrawal  of  the  troops,~and  directed  the  attack  to  be 
made  immediately.  He  despatched  orders  to  Brigadier 
Monckton  to  have  his  corps  in  readiness  to  land,  and  to 
Brigadiers  Townshend  and  Murray  to  pass  the  ford  with 
their  respective  commands. 


i'Vll 


|r,  which  com- 
n  were  placed 
ado  the  left  of 

f  was  in  readi- 
iter's  edge,  a 
he  artillery  of 

kept  without 
issential  to  our 
r  adversaries, 
hot  from  their 
ission,  it  mugt 
' ;  should  they 
it  would  afford 
situation,  so  as 
t  attack  them, 
i  possess  this 

it, — not  from 
— but  from  a 
ss  effusion  of 
trenchment  at 
on  board  one 
chored  in  the 
•om  this  point 
jer  and  move- 
ow  rapid  and 
3  and  rational 
lotions  of  our 
Iness  for  corn- 
collections  of 

considerable 
's  best  friend, 
ir  own  army 
and  filled  with 
I  his  mind, — 
I  planning  tiie 

attack  to  be 

to  Brigadier 
)  land,  and  to 
the  ford  with 


HAVBMIILL. 


211 


The  moment  the  tide  was  at  half-flood  the  signal  was 
given  for  the  troops  composing  Monckton's  brigade,  with 
the  others  appointed  to  this  important  service,  to  land  on 
the  beach.  But  many  difficulties  occurred  to  delay  them, 
and  much  time  was  lost.  I  have  said  there  was  a  wide 
shoal  or  sandbank  lining  this  side  of  the  St.  Lawrence ; 
at  this  point  there  was  also  a  ledge  running  a  considerable 
distance  into  the  river,  and  upon  this  ledge,  now  partially 
hidden  by  the  advancing  tide,  the  boats,  containing  the  elite 
of  the  division,  grounded  and  held  fast.  This  accident, 
perhaps,  lost  us  the  day.  The  enemy  recovered  his  spirits, 
and  ours  were  proportionably  depressed.  It  threw  our 
troops  into  disorder,  lost  us  much  time,  and  compelled  the 
commander-in-chief  to  stop  thejmarch  of  the  two  brigades 
across  the  ford  at  the  moment  they  had  plumed  themselves 
with  expectations  of  an  easy  and  glorious  victory.  While 
the  seamen  were  employed  in  getting  the  boats  off,  in 
which  task  they  were  assisted  by  the  tide,  or  il  had  never 
been  done,  the  enemy  kept  up  a  brisk  fire,  making  much 
noise,  evincing  much  anger,  but  doing  little  damage.  "  As 
soon" — I  now  use  nearly  the  language  of  the  despatch — 
"  as  this  disorder  could  be  set  a  little  to  rights,  and  the 
boats  were  ranged  in  a  proper  manner,"  the  general, 
"  accompanied  by  some  of  the  officers  of  the  navy,  went 
on  shore  to  endeavour  to  find  a  better  place  to  land."  One 
was  soon  found,  presenting  fewer  natural  obstacles  than 
that  we  had  at  first  chosen,  and  there  the  general,  thinking 
it  not  too  late  for  the  attack, ordered  the  troops  to  disembark. 

Those  which  first  got  to  land  on  that  ill-starred  day 
were  the  thirteen  companies  of  grenadiers  and  two  hun- 
dred of  the  second  Royal  American  battalion.  The  order 
given  was,  that  upon  landing,  the  grenadiers  should  form 
themselves  into  four  distinct  bodies.  As  soon  as  it  should 
be  ascertained  that  Townshend  and  Murray  had  crossed 
the  ford,  they  were  to  begin  the  attack,  supported  by 
Monckton's  corps.  But  destiny — the  soldier's  ready  apol- 
ogy for  all  his  miscalculations  and  mischances — had  ordered 
that  Britons,  upon  this  day,  should  see  themselves  worsted 
in  the  field.  Whatever  the  cause  were,  whether  from  the 
noise  and  hurry  at  landing — but  soldiers,  one  would  think, 
should  be  moved  by  neither — their  life  is  a  life  of  noise 


312 


HAVERHILL. 


a 


If 

w 


1^ 


and  hurry,  nnd  a  "  quick  step"  one  of  their  most  important 
manuuuvrcs;  whutevcr  the  cause  were,  the  grenadiers, 
instead  of  forming  themselves  with  the  coolness  and  pre- 
cision  expected  of  picked  and  veteran  troops,  ran  on  im- 
petuously towards  tlie  enemy's  intrenchmcnts  in  the  utmost 
disorder  and  confusion,  without  waiting  for  the  corps  which 
were  to  sustain  them  and  join  in  the  attack.  They  bore, 
in  their  march,  a  far  greater  resemblance  to  a  company  of 
boys  just  broke  looje  from  a  village-school  than  to  a  body 
of  regular  troops  proceeding  to  the  attack  of  a  brave  and 
well-disciplined  foe. 

What  could  be  expected  but  that  which  occurred  1  They 
were  checked  by  the  first  fire  from  the  enemy,  and  obliged 
to  shelter  themselves  in  and  about  the  redoubt, — which  the 
enemy  abandoned  upon  their  approach.  Brigadier  Town- 
shend,  though  marching  with  all  possible  expedition  to  join 
us,  was  yet  at  a  distance  which  forbade  his  offering  that 
which  alone  could  be  of  service  to  us — immediate  succour, 
and  one  brigade  had  not  yet  landed.  In  this  very  bad 
situation  the  grenadiers  continued  for  some  time,  certainly 
more  than  half  an  hour,  unable  to  form  under  the  hot  and 

falling  fire,  men  falling  by  scores  at  every  discharge  of  the 
'rench  musketry,  and  their  gallant  officers  momentarily 
picked  off  with  fatal  aim. 

At  length  our  brigade  landed,  and  was  drawn  up  on  the 
beach.  It  was  now  that  the  general — I  use  his  own  words 
— "  saw  the  absolute  necessity  of  calling  them  (the  grena- 
diers) 0%  that  they  might  form  themselves  under  our  corps." 
By  one  of  those  chances  which  make  or  mar  men's  fortunes, 
in  the  twiiikling  of  an  eye  covers  us,  perhaps,  with  the 
badges  of  orders,  or  pulls  down  the  fabric  which  the  labours 
of  half  a  lifo  have  been  required  to  build  up,  I — much  out 
of  the  course  of  military  doings,  for  such  things  are  usually 
left  to  aids-de-camp,  was  deputed  to  bear  the  orders  of 
the  commander-in-chief  for  the  immadiate  retreat  of  the 
grenadiers.  It  was  my  first  special  mission.  I  had  the 
good  fortune  to  execute  it,  and  to  return  unharmed. 

The  battle  of  the  Falls  of  Montmorency  has  never  been 
called  a  defeat,  but  it  was  such.  Our  troops  behaved 
themselves  very  badly  on  that  day,  but  they  made  glorious 
amends  for  it  by  their  conduct  at  the  battle  which  won  us 
Canada. 


■ii  Im 


HAVERHILL. 


213 


Tioit  important 
lio  gieimdicrs, 
)lncss  and  pre* 
ps,  ran  on  im- 
s  in  tlic  utmost 
le  corps  which 
They  bore, 
a  company  of 
:han  to  a  body 
f  a  brave  and 

currcd?  They 
jy,  and  obliged 
)t, — which  the 
igadicr  Town- 
edition  to  join 
I  offering  that 
id  late  succour, 
this  very  bad 
ime,  certainly 
2r  the  hot  and 
scharge  of  the 
momentarily 

iwn  up  on  the 
lis  own  words 
m  (the  grena- 
ler  our  corps." 
nen's  fortunes, 
aps,  with  the 
ch  the  labours 
,  I — much  out 
^s  are  usually 
the  orders  of 
retreat  of  the 
I.  I  had  the 
larmed. 
as  never  been 
3ops  behaved 
made  glorious 
which  won  us 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  .31st  of  July,  I 
was  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  liberty  consistent  with 
military  discipline ;  behold  me,  at  ten  the  next  morning,  a 
prisoner  to  the  fiercest  and  most  savngc  race  of  men  that 
ever  existed  on  the  earth  since  the  days  of  Tamerlane.  I 
will  narrate  the  story  of  my  capture,  and  in  so  doing 
occupy  as  little  space  as  possible. 

During  the  whole  time  that  we  had  been  encamped 
north-east  of  the  falls,  our  flanks  and  outposts  had  been 
daily  assailed  by  these,  I  might  almost  call  them  invisible, 
enemies.  Let  an  individual  stray  after  nightfall  but  fifty 
yards  from  our  lines,  and  he  was  sure  to  be  found  without 
a  scalp  in  the  morning.  Oftentimes,  in  the  dead  of  night, 
their  horrid  yells  would  be  suddenly  raised  within  twenty 
rods  of  a  principal  battery.  You  knew  not  when  to  expect 
them,  or  where  to  look  for  them — in  the  language  of  an 
individual  of  that  sagacious  nation  to  which  all  bulls  are 
ascribed,  "  When  you  had  caught  him,  you  found  he  was 
not  there."  It  was  far  worse  to  deal  with  these  subtle, 
perpetually-shifling,  treacherous  foes,  than  with  their  white 
allies.  Their  battle  was  more  dreaded  by  our  brave  fel- 
lows than  a  contest  with  thrice  the  number  of  French  would 
have  been. 

Early  the  next  morning  after  the  battle,  a  large  war-party 
of  the  Iroquoise  tribe  were  seen  hovering  near  one  of  our 
outposts,  apparently  waiting  a  favourable  moment  to  make 
an  attack.  The  general,  who  was  watching  their  move- 
ments, called  me  to  his  side. 

"  See  those  black  rascals,"  said  he ;  "  they  are  swarming 
in  the  vicinity  of  that  post  with  no  very  civil  intent,  1  think ; 
I  will  allow  you  an  opportunity  to  distinguish  yourself." 

Invested  with  the  command  of  a  hundred  men,  I  set  out 
to  execute  my  commission.  I  led  out  my  little  army  in 
pursuit  of  my  antagonists,  who  kept  retreating  till  they  had 
''ained  the  further  end  of  a  level  plain,  where,  behind  a  range 
ti*  decayed  brush  fences,  they  halted,  apparently  with  the 


// 


J 


) 


'u'Me»:' 


214 


HAVERHILL. 


intention  of  giving  us  battle,  should  we  advance  into  he 
plain.  Battle  was  what  we  came  for,  but  we  should  have 
sought  it  differently ;  so  putting  our  horses  upon  a  smart 
trot,  we  rode  towards  their  slight  intrenchment,  intending 
to  use  only  our  swords.  We  were  met,  at  the  distance  of 
twenty  rods  or  less,  by  a  fire  so  lively  and  well-directed, 
that  many  of  our  men  were  killed,  and  we  were  compelled, 
for  the  time,  to  give  way  and  retreat  amid  the  terrible 
shouts  and  yells  of  our  foes.  A  second  time  I  led  them  on, 
burning  with  rage  and  disappointment,  and  was  again  met 
by  the  same  destructive  fire.  We,  that  is  the  remnant  of 
the  detachment,  were  within  ten  rods  of  the  fence,  upon  a 
full  gallop,  to  leap  it,  and  make  quick  work  with  our  adversa- 
ries, when  a  ball,  which  came  from  an  angle  of  the  fence 
upon  the  right,  struck  me,  and  I  fell  senseless  from  my  horse. 

How  long  I  remained  deprived  of  consciousness  I  cannot 
tell,  but  it  could  not  have  been  long.  When  I  me  to 
myself,  the  first  sight  which  met  my  eyes,  the  first  sound 
which  assailed  my  ears,  was  that  made  by  a  party  of 
Indians  running  towards  me — with  their  customary  shouts 
of  joy  when  victors — brandishing  their  clubs  and  toma- 
hawks, and  making  the  most  frightful  gestures  which  can 
be  imagined.  I  attempted  to  rise,  with  the  intention  of 
doing  my  best  to  repel  them :  flight  was  out  of  the  question, 
for  they  are  far  swifter  of  foot  than  white  men  ;  but  my 
dizziness  returned ;  I  found  myself  utterly  incapable  of 
making  any  resistance :  and  after  several  ineflfectual  endea- 
vours to  get  upon  my  feet,  I  sunk  down  again,  in  that  most 
painful  and  appalling  of  all  conditions  of  being,  when  we 
are  without  the  power  to  speak  or  move,  yet  know 
perfectly  well  what  is  taking  place  around  us,  and  are  as 
keenly  alive  to  danger  as  if  the  faculties  we  have  lost 
remained  to  us. 

It  was  doubtless  the  intention  of  the  Indians,  when 
they  first  came  up,  to  despatch  me  at  once ;  for  of  all  the 
wounded,  perhaps  twenty  in  number,  only  myself  was 
spared.  Two  of  them  seized  upon  me  at  the  same  moment 
of  time  ;  but  while  disputing  to  which  of  them  I  belonged, 
and  which  should  surrender  his  claim,  and  before  there  was 
time  for  them  to  arbitrate  their  quarrel,  according  to  their 
custom  in  such  cases,  by  putting  an  end  to  my  life,  a  young 
•warrior,  who  had  borne  himself  with  singular  bravery  in  tho 


li:1t 


HAVSRHILL< 


215 


vance  into  he 
fe  should  have 

upon  a  smart 
lent,  intending 
;he  distance  of 

well-directed, 
ere  compelled, 
id  the  terrible 

I  led  them  on, 
was  again  met 
he  remnant  of 

fence,  upon  a 
th  our  adversa- 
le  of  the  fence 
from  my  horse. 
jsness  I  cannot 
hen  I  me  to 
the  first  sound 
by  a  party  of 
stomary  shoutg 
lbs  and  toma- 
res  which  can 
le  intention  of 
jf  the  question, 
men ;  but  my 
r  incapable  of 
ffectual  endea- 
in,  in  that  most 
eing,  when  we 
ve,  yet  know 
us,  and  are  as 

we  have  lost 

Indians,  when 
;  for  of  all  the 
y  myself  was 
!  same  moment 
jm  I  belonged, 
jfore  there  was 
ording  to  their 
ly  life,  a  young 
bravery  in  the 


battle,  interposed  between  me  and  the  hatchets  raised  to 
despatch  me.  Three  seconds  later,  and  my  mortal  career 
had  been  ended;  their  keen  and  glittering  tomahawks 
were  descending  to  do  their  work  when  the  voice  of  the 
young  Indian,  raised  half  in  threat,  half  in  supplication,  led 
to  the  suspension  of  their  purpose.  My  captors  contented 
themselves  with  divesting  me  of  my  sword,  pistols,  hat,  coat, 
trousers,  and  boots,  and  then  left  me,  to  busy  themselves 
in  their  horrid  work  of  carnage,  scalping  and  slaughtering, 
with  all  the  circumstances  of  barbarity  which  distinguish 
their  warfare,  the  while  sending  forth  shouts,  which  were 
heard  even  by  that  portion  of  our  army  who  were  encamped 
near  two  miles  distant. 

While  my  captors  had  been  employed  in  their  usual 
labours,  my  deliverer  had  been  intent  only  on  recovering 
me  from  my  stupor,  and  took  no  part  in  the  murderoug 
game  which  was  playing.  My  wound — a  mere  flesh 
wound,  slight,  yet  productive  of  great  pain,  and  occasioning 
much  dizziness  and  lethargy,  was  in  the  head  :  he  culled  a 
handful  of  leaves  and  flowers,  dug  up  some  roots,  and 
pounding  the  whole  until  it  became  a  coagulated  mass, 
bound  it  upon  the  wound,  at  the  same  time  giving  me  a 
draught  of  a  mixture  intolerably  bitter.  I  had  sufficient 
consciousness  to  feel  that  the  hand  which  was  performing 
this  kind  office  was  a  very  friendly  one-^friendly  indeed ! 
else  how  had  I  been  preserved  amidst  the  indiscriminate 
slaughter.  There  was  another  person  who  seemed  to  take 
an  ardent  interest  in  my  fate — it  was  an  aged  Indian  woman. 
She  stood  a  few  yards  from  me  ;  and  though  it  is  forbid'^.-3n 
by  the  stern  dictates  of  savage  honour — the  laws  of  a  code 
which  it  is  infamy  to  infringe — to  evince  sentiments  of 
approbation  at  any  act  which  shall  lessen  the  amount  of 
human  suffering — though,  "  doing  to  others  as  he  would 
wish  to  be  done  by,"  the  Indian  suffers  men,  especially 
when  he  means  them  kindly,  to  enjoy  all  possible  opportu- 
nities of  displaying  the  cardinal  virtues  of  the  Indian  code 
of  ethics,  courage  and  intrepidity, — I  say,  notwithstanding 
this,  I  could  perceive  that  she,  as  well  as  the  young  warrior, 
took  a  strong  interest  in  my  fate,  and  was  prepared  to  pro- 
tect me  from  further  injury. 

As  the  medicinal  potion  and  plaster  succeeded  in  removing 
the  pain  from  my  head  and  restoring  my  recollection,  the 


f 

V 


•  -  ■«•^&^^**'<fc'**(■M••■•*«■ 


nasBPft^wv^ 


'    1 


S16 


HAVERHILL. 


t^ 


impression  which  I  had  entertained  from  the  first  moment 
of  my  captivity,  that  I  had  somewhere  seen  my  deliverers, 
deepened  into  almost  absolute  certainty.  And  yet,  where, 
and  who  were  they?  A  gray-headed  Indian  woman,  hav- 
ing  the  appearance  of  one  of  those  prophetesses  of  whom 
the  Runic  poets  sing  in  their  wild  legends :  a  warrior, 
young,  tall,  and  graceful ;  fierce  as  a  tiger,  and  swift  as  an 
antelope ;  his  lip  curling ;  his  eye  sparkling  with  all  the 
fire  and  pride  of  unsubdued  liberty.  They  were — must 
be,  strangers ;  and  yet  their  voices  sounded  in  my  ears 
like  the  voices  of  old  friends.  Whoever  they  were,  it  was 
not  permitted  me  to  scan  their  features  further,  or  to  ques- 
tion them  on  the  subject  of  certain  vague  suspicions  which 
floated  through  my  mind.  Their  companions  having 
finished  their  work  of  slaughter,  and  gathered  up  their 
booty,  gave  the  war-whoop,  and  we  set  out  for  their  camp 
in  the  rear  of  the  French  intrenchments. 

The  tribe  to  which  the  warriors  belonged  whose  property 
I  had  become  was  the  Mohawks,  the  proudest  and  most 
indomitable  member  of  the  confederacy  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Iroquoise,  or  Five  Nations.  These  tribes 
formed  a  potent  league,  which  directed  and  controlled 
almost  the  whole  of  the  North  American  wilderness,  anni- 
hilating all  who  opposed  them,  and,  whithersoever  they 
went,  like  the  Roman  invaders  of  Britain — if  Galgacus 
spoke  true  of  them, — "  making  a  desert,  and  calling  it 
peace."  I  can  give  no  better  idea  of  these  terrible  men, 
when  fully  painted,  plumed,  accoutred,  and  in  the  act  of 
making  a  terrible  onset  upon  unprepared  enemies,  or  rush- 
ing upon  foes  already  defeated,  than  to  compare  them  to 
so  many  fiends  just  broke  loose  from  the  infernal  regions. 
Fancy  three  or  four  hundred,  perhaps  a  thousand  men, 
not  one  in  ten  of  whom  shall  be  less  than  six  feet  high,  and 
many  adding  three  or  four  inches  to  that  of  itself  lofty 
stature  ;  their  square  chests,  brawny  arms  to  the  shoulder 
blade,  and  sinewy  legs  to  midway  of  the  thigh  exposed  to 
full  view.  Their  heads  will  be  shaven  to  a  single  tuft  of 
hair,  the  chivalrous  scalp-lock ;  and  face,  neck,  arms,  legs, 
and  body  will  be  painted  according  to  the  fancy  of  their 
owner, — for  no  person  ever  saw  two  warriors  painted  ex- 
actly alike.  Upon  one  the  red  will  predominate — red  is 
a  favourite  and  prevailing  colour, — another  will  wear  blue, 


HAVERHILL. 


217 


a  third  black  (the  war  colour),  a  fourth  yellow,  and  a  fifth 
the  various  intermingled  and  commingled  shades  which 
may  be  produced  by  a  blending  of  materials.  Infinite  in 
number  as  the  hues  are,  there  will  be  as  great  a  variety  in 
the  figures  or  emblematic  devices.  One  will  have  the 
figure  of  a  tortoise,  another  of  a  wolf,  a  third  of  a  beaver, 
a  fourth  of  a  bear, — recumbent,  couchant,  leaping,  or 
racing.  One  will  have  the  paint  laid  on  in  narrow  perpen- 
dicular lines,  while  another  prefers  the  horizontal.  A  bow 
with  a  sheaf  of  arrows  at  the  back,  a  war-axe  in  the  belt, 
and  a  spear  or  war-club  in  the  hand,  will  form  the  martial 
accoutrements  of  these  fearful  beings ;  to  which  they  now 
add  muskets.  1  am  persuaded  there  does  not  exist  upon 
the  earth  a  set  of  men  whose  warfare — in  a  wild  country, 
among  woods,  abrupt  passes  and  narrow  defiles — is  so 
much  to  be  dreaded  as  theirs. 

A  march  of  little  more  than  half  an  hour  brought  us  to  a 
small  eminence,  within  a  mile  of  that  part  of  the  chain  of 
Indian  encampments  where  the  Five  Nations  had  their 
abiding  place ;  if  that  term  can  be  used  of  a  people  so  rest- 
less and  unfixed  in  their  habits,  and,  literally,  here  to-day 
and  gone  to-morrow.    The  other  Indian  auxiliaries,  con- 
sisting of  many  nations,  now  for  the  first  time  dwelling 
together  with  a  show  of  peace,  had  their  camping  places 
immediately  in  the  rear  of  the  French  army  at  Beauport, 
at  Sillery,  upon  both  sides  of  the  St.  Charles,  and  upon 
both  sides  of  the  little  river  Larry,  which  disembogues 
itself  into  the  St.  Charles  just  above  the  bridge.     The 
Iroquoise  had  fixed  their  lodges  upon  both  sides  of  the  St. 
Charles,  and  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  French 
troops.     They  affected  to  think  it  derogatory  to  them  to 
post  themselves  behind  any  body  of  men,  besides  it  im- 
plied the  being  protected ;  and  thus,  while  all  the  rest  of 
the  savage  auxiliaries  were  content  to  be  within  call  of  the 
French  patroles— within  smell  of  their  rum — the  haughty 
Iroquoise  were  best  pleased  to  lodge  themselves  at  a  point 
remoter  and  more  accordant  with  their  notions  of  what 
constituted  honour  and  independence.     An  Indian  camp 
varies  very  little  in  peace  or  war ;  it  seems  a  village  in 
either  case ;  and  it  is  but  the  labour  of  a  few  minutes  to 
convert  a  hostile  into  a  pacific  encampment.    They  are, 
Vol.  I.— 19 


1 


ll 


f 


^ 


?ii 


I 


;S-. 


218 


RAVERIIILL. 


m 


V: 


I:  I 

n! 


whether  their  object  in  removing  be  war  or  hunting,  ac- 
companied  by  all  their  famihes,  and  carry  all  their  movea- 
Die  eliects,  /.  e.  all  they  possess,  with  them. 

As  we  passed  the  encampments  of  the  other  tribes,  the 
party  of  my  captors  set  up  a  shout  which  was  answered 
by  all  the  warriors  within  hearing.     None  of  the  males 
ottered  me  any  mdignity ;  but  the  women,  accompanied 
by  children  of  all  ages— now  taking  lessons  in  the  science 
ot  cruelty,  perfectmg  themselves  in  the  art  of  tormentintr  — 
came  to  meet  and  taunt  us.     I  should  have  mentioned  that 
we  had  been  jomed  soon  after  we  passed  the  principal 
l-rench  post  by  another  Iroquoise  war-party,  with  several 
prisoners.     They  covered  us— these  rude,  copper-coloured 
ladies— with  a  thousand  reproaches  and  maledictions; 
calhng  us  "old  women,"  "wrinkled  old  men,  with  hairy 
chms,"  "  dogs,  running  off  with  their  tails  between  their 
legs,    and  a  dozen  other  hard  and  unequivocal  names. 
1  hey  did  not  subject  us  to  blows,  nor  attempt  to  maim  us— 
they  would  not  have  been  permitted  to  do  so,  for  the  tor- 
menting prisoners  is  a  right  guarded  by  the  warriors  with 
much  jealousy  and  caution. 

When  we  arrived  on  the  left  bank  of»the  St.  Charles, 
over  against  the  Mohawk  encampment,— the  other  Iro- 
quoise tribes  were  posted  on  the  right  bank,  a  mile  above 
us,--we  made  a  halt,  and  a  courier  was  sent  to  announce 
their  victory.     It  is  their  invariable  custom  to  send  one 
lorward  Vilh  an  account  of  how  went  the  battle ;  and 
there  usually  takes  place  on  this  occasion  a  series  of  cere- 
monies, which  vary  less  than  those  which  attend  the  kind's 
coronation.     In  this  instance,  the  ceremony  of  announcing 
victory  wanted  some  of  the  circumstances  which  usually 
belonged  to  it,  and  many  of  the  particular  cnes  which  are 
used  to  convey  a  general  idea  of  the  principal  adventures 
they  have  met  with  in  the  campaign,  and  the  number  of 
the  killed  and  wounded  ;  for  their  victory,  in  this  instance, 
had  been  purchased  without  the  loss  of  a  single  individual. 
The  courier— messenger  is  their  own  and  the  more  appro-* 
priate  word— gave  the  cries  for  the  number  of  scalps  and 
prisoners,  ending  with  one  peculiarly  sharp,  shrill,  and  joy. 
ful,  intimating  much  booty.  *' 

When  it  was  known  that  the  victory  had  been  a  blood- 
less one,  that  the  plunder  was  much,  and  the  scalps  many, 


%. 


HAVERHILL. 


219 


I  cannot  find  words  adequate  to  paint  the  scene  which 
ensued.     Men,  women,  children,  and  dogs  rushed  out  to 
meet  us,  forming  a  line  upon  each  side  of  the  path  through 
which  we  must  pass.    We  were  soon  made  to  compre- 
hend that  we  were  about  to  take  our  chance  for  hfe  by 
"running  the  gauntlet,"— an  expression  in  use  among  divers 
other  nations,  but  rendered  nowhere  else  so  horribly  ex- 
pressive,—through  the  long  and  irregular  files  which  lined 
the  sides  of  this  narrow  path.     As  they  were  all  armed, 
from  the  boy  and  girl  of  six  to  the  woman  of  eighty,  child, 
wife,  maiden,  and  warrior,  all  boiling  with  the  most  intense 
hatred,  all  eager  to  avenge  injuries  real  or  supposed,  it  may 
be  thought  that  my  anticipations  of  the  sports  of  the  next 
two  hours  were  not  particularly  pleasant.     But  just  as  1 
had  surrendered  myself  up  to  despair,  and  when  already 
in  imagination  I  felt — 

«'  The  pincers  rending  my  flesh, 
The  hot  stones  searing  my  eyeballs," 

the  Indian  woman,  accompanied  by  the  youthful  warrior, 
who,  together,  had  wrought  my  first  deliverance,  but 
neither  of  whom  I  had  seen  since  the  moment  after  that 
considerate  act,  came  and  interposed  themselves  a  second 
time  between  me  and  danger.  A  long  altercation  now 
took  place  between  the  parties.  It  was  conducted,  how- 
ever, in  all  the  guttural  majesty  and  mystery  of  the  Indian 
tongue,  and  therefore  intelligible  to  me  only  through  the 
gestures,  which  were  very  turbulent  and  expressive.  As 
near  as  I  could  understand  the  dispute,  one  party,  consti- 
tuting a  great  majority,  wished  me  to  be  a  prominent 
actor  in  the  tragedy  they  were  getting  up,  while  my  de- 
liverers would  have  me  be  only  a  spectator. 

I  had  yet  to  witness  their  doings  with  the  other  prison- 
ers. These  were  in  number  four ;  an  elderly  Scotchman, 
from  some  village  near  the  border,  and  lately  acting  as 
drummer,  in  Kennedy's  ;  a  real  Paddy  from  Cork ;  a  pri- 
vate lately  belonging  to  the  Royal  Americans,  genuine 
Vermont  born  and  bred  ;  and  a  Huron  warrior,  one  of  the 
small  number  of  Indians  who  had  left  the  camp  of  their 
brethren  to  give  us  their  services  in  the  capacity  of 
guides.  1  had  great  hopes  that  Lot  Look,  the  Royal 
American,  would  conduct  the  race  so  as  to  escape  all 


» 


I 


'i 


,mt- 


•-A 


-:,.ja, ,  ailiitiirrggicyj 


220 


nAVERHILI,. 


scath  and  injury.  He  was  a  hardy  woodsman,  young  and 
"  pru  ty  considerable  actyve,"  to  use  his  own  phrase^s^x 
feet  four  inches  high,  of  which  space  his  Jeis  occ  unied 
something  more  than  five  feet,  and  to  crown  all,  and  to 
multiply  his  chances  of  escape  past  the  power  of  numeral 

there  is  on  those  of  a  regularly  trained  boxer.  Altogether 
he  reminded  one  of  what  children  call  a  "  stalkinghorse." 
1  here   was  much    encouragement,  too,  in    Lo?s    eve 

IpirthTch'h  T  ^'-.»lf  at  Dover  in  allsaveThe 
pup  1,  vvhich  had  precisely  the  hue  which  belongs  to  skim- 
med  milk,  or  starch  into  which  «  bluing"  has  been  put  it 
was  nevertheless  an  eye  of  promise,  an^  which  seemed 
to  say,  supposing  it  to  adopt  the  peculiar  phraseoloffv  of 

''IT"'';!!' *  ^^"'^  ^^'^^^  ^  fardin  for'em^"     BulL; 
what  could  be  expected  from  Donald  Magillicuddy;  from 
Jedburgh,  who  more  resembled  a  porpoise  tJian  a  Wan 
being ;  who,  measured  by  the  scale^of  the  clown  in  he  old 
play,  was  just  -four  feet  and  a  bottle  high,"  wile  te 
were  so  short  that  the  regiment  "  upon  th?  Occasion  ofll 
rapid  movements  had  to  carry  him  in  a  sedan,"-at  leas 
such  was  the  report,-andwho  was  compelled  to  obserra- 
tion  of  the  "mward  man,"  from  the  dire  circumstance  Z 
his  cheeks  were  so  bloated  by  reason  of  "sSg    he 
creature/'  that  they  completely  obstructed  his  view  of  the 
outer.    And  what  could  be  hoped  from  Teddy  oSrn tosh 
the  boy  from  T.pperary,  who  could  not,  even  with  the 
points  of  their  spears  pricking  his  flesh,  ^alk  from  very 
laughter  or  as  he  called  it,  «  splitting  his  sides,"  nor  keep 
his  eyes  from  making  the  amiable  to  the  copper- coloured 
irSead"  "f^H'""-"^^^^  "«  -th  hot  poker^Ld  p" 
M^nt  Jlsses.'    """    ^ha^-teristic  curling-ton'gs  and 
"Now,  d--a-.r--n  my  eyes,  if  they  don't  think  thev 

ther  7^7  i"v  ^^"  ^T^  '^  ^°  *^^"^  ashaVtgot 
f  Vr        7    ^^^™o"nt  hop,  step,  and  jump.      But 

r"vT~'/?1'  "^^T  ""^''f  ^  ^°"'t  SO  the  whole  length  of  the 
/'a^^/^  with  less  than  half  a  duzzin  blows,  and  them  I  get 
shaint  be  no  more  nor  so  many  flea-bites  "  ^ 

I  ventured  to  remark  to  the  over-confident,  but  really 
courageous  young  man,  that  it  was  an  "ordeal/where 


■.  *M*»4,  I*-    *,»,^, 


■  ■•"^♦k.^eep,,,,  ,m»»»«*W<, 


HAVBRHIMi. 


221 


little  was  left  to  chance,  and  where  courage  and  resolution 

""TJC  m^be  you  don't  know,  leeftenant  that  I  am 
up  tJ'el     Uncle  Rufus  Davis-do  you  know  uncle 

Rufus?"  ^     , 

I  acknowledged  I  had  not  that  honour. . 

«  Well,  he  m  me  h-o-w  to  manage   em-he  larnt 
the  trick  when  the  divuls  took  William  Henry.  ^ 

"  I  wus  ye  wad  tell  it  me,  and  I  ken  what  I  wus  mair, 
said  Donald,  gloomily.    "  De'il  fash  me,  but  I  wus  I  had  a 
fute  mair  leg,  with  a  wee  bit  less  sack  to  carry,  an  then  I 
vJad^ie  them  a  try  for  it.    Now^I  dinna  ken  if  there  11  be 
ony  hope  for  the  auld  drummer.'  . ,  t,  ,   «  u,,*  t^i,^ 

«  Och  !  by  the  ould  mither  of  me."  said  Pat,  "but  take 
courage,  my  honey !  and  all  will  be  we  yet.  When  ye 
M^er  e^f  m  the  path,  Donald,  my  sowl !  jist  go  forward 
BO  do  and  lave  the  rest  to  chance.  Kape  her  stepping,  my 
r^atandwhUe  thev  are  making  the  playafth 
Td  he  officer  like,'and  the  jonUeman  as  «ays  he  has  Bis 
micle's  step  devil  a  bit  they'll  be  minding  the  two  auld 
Zt  T^SyeTd  Donald.  But  look  yonner,  you  spalpeen. 
What  a  pair  of  eyes  she  has !    He  !  he ! 

"Who?'*  u 

"Ah  who?  Why,  nobody  at  all,  sure,  but  iust  that 
nrettv  voung  lady  which  has  the  feathers  in  her  hair,  and 
fhe  power  of  beads  upon  her  naked  bosom,  and  around  her 
ighf  nule  ancles,  and'  the  ring  through  hf  beaut^ul  n^^^^^^ 
And  isn't  it  myself  now,  ewel,  that  would  be  afther  taking 
the  same  lady  to  a  snug  cabm,  ony  where  yell  name 
rather  than  be  fighting  the  day  like  Bran  the  blood- 

^'Tht'event  of  the  race  proved  Teddy  half  a  sage.  The 
Vermonter  ran  first,  and  ran  with  the  swiftness  of  a  hound, 
but  rough  he  tried  the  plan  which  had  brought  his  uncle 
Rufus  safe  oflf  from  Fort  William  Henry,  leaped,  ran  zig- 
zaa,  &c  he  did  not  reach  the  goal  without  receiving  a 
mStitude  of  small  hurts,  and  some  severe  wounds.  My 
S  came  next,  but  there  had  been  a  secret  influence 
working  fn  my  behalf,  and  I  escaped  with  few  injuries,. 
D3and  'Teddy  got  off"  with  some  slight  scratches. 
No  one  acquainted  with  Indian  customs  and  manners  wiU 

19* 


Pi 


ssateXlJS^S^'l'— "■^*»^' 


aSv*.' 


222 


BAVEKHlLt. 


be  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  escape  of  the  two  last  nr 
for  the  heavy  wounds  inflicted  on  the  Vermontlr  and  the 
Huron,  the  latter  of  whom  reached  the  goa  to  use  a 
Tulgar  expression,  more  dead  than  alive.     Th^  quantity 

who  are  tn^«  S?''  T"?."  5  *?^  '^^^'^^  "«"*«  ^^^  those 
most  Thns^pTr  *^'*  ''  ^'^""'^  ^°^*^^'^«t  receiving 
raoable  of  fLt  ""'?'  ^  '^''"'""  '^"^^^  ^^^  approved, 
capable  of  fas  ,ng  six  days  in  succession,  and  feasting  the 

next  seven  without  intermission,  went  from  the  arena 

C'lr'^drSr    ""'.  ^-^^"^^"^  ^"^"^' "  ^-^-" 

»iorn,  nardy,  athletic,  and  sinewy,  could,  thev  thoimK* 
judging  from  physical  appearances,  be  n^hiS^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
!^^,r;«r,  and  as  such,  entitled  by  right  r?he  Jeatest 
civihty  thoy  were  capable  of  showing.^  I  was  ver/weT 
by  no  means  a  poltroon,  but  my  hands  weTe  white  whi;i; 
was  very  much  against  me ;  besJes,  they  imd  seen  mP 

low  t hi.  Ik  ^"^^  Teddy  their  opinions  were  very  low  so 

T^^^^^^  Paici  b.  my  uncle 

in  n.  •  "f*"  ^''^'"^  ^'^"^  ^'^^"  «^e»ned  intended  to  end  life 

eem  .0  stnke  at  randon,,  and  to  be  actual  on^'by  ik7 
andTad^mVedltTh," '■^''"'  *''  <='''«g»'<»-y  punishment, 

luunu  in  tne  camp,  and  in  quantit  cs  that  would  hnv^  frr) 
.  score,  for  whatever  be  the'tormen.s  to  be  ™rac1ued  up^n 


HAVBRHILL. 


223 


a  prisoner,  he  is  in  other  respects  treated  with  every  kmd- 
ness  consistent  with  his  being  kept  in  strict  bondage.  The 
captor  will  sooner  forego  food,  sooner  endure  privation 
himself,^han  his  prisoner  shall  suffer  from  want  of  any 
£g  whfch  he  caS  supply.  This  is  not  ^om  beXO^ence^ 
however ;  the  interests  of  his  revenge  require  t^^t  Ae  ^k^U^ 
shall  approach  the  stake  where  his  malice  is  to  be  glutted, 
with  unwasted  strength  and  undimmed  energy. 

The  morning  of  the  day  destined  to  be  the  most  event- 
ful  of  ourTves^was  ushered  in  with  the  roll  of  the  chick- 
acoue  or  iSn  drum,  and  the  shouts  of  the  multitude  pre- 
ZZ»  the  fasffots     After  each  had  been  furnished  with  a 
Kl    poX  we  w^     carried  before  the  great  "  wit- 
Sgemote."   It  being  summer,  and  the  weather  very 
warm!The  council  of  ancients  was  not  held  in  a  cabin,  ac- 
Tordhig  to  their  usual  custom,  and  which  they  prefer,  but 
Snder  an  immense  oak-the  monarch,  or  at  least  a  Piercy 
nr  ^t  Maur  of  the  forest,  which  cast  a  shade  over  half  the 
spadou^  lawn  ^^^^      to'  the  St.  Charles.     Under  other 
cKmstares,  and  vlwed  in  the  absence  of  other  excite- 
ment  thTthkt  which  should  be  suggested  by  the  land- 
scape  alL,  the  scene  would  have  been  one  ot  extraordi- 
raTbeauty  as  it  still  was  of  thrilling  interest.    1  have 
Tt-neTer  had  the  ability  to  descril^e  natural  scenery,  f^^^ 
mine  is  a  homely  and  uneducated  pen.    Now,  when  one 
write   upon  the  wonders  and  beauties  of  creation,  he  should 
wr  te  wHh  d  feather  plucked  from  the  wing  of  a  seraph. 
God  hrshed  a  large  portion  of  his  majesty,  and  sublimity, 
and  dory  upon  the  things  of  the  terrestrial  world    and 
thence    t^'is  that  whatever  is  written  upon  these  things 

?!oceans-mountains.  Above  all  he  ^ho-ld  ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
with  a  sincere  and  ardent  love  of  God  A  devout  Chris- 
to  would,  I  am  persuaded,  do  the  picture  much  bettei 
thTn  an  infidel.    He  will  feel,  the  other  only  see  . 

mfound  he  Indians  seated  in  their  usua  fashion  in 
cirls  around  the  oak.  The  cl.iefs  -^ -st  f  ting^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
warriors  of  the  nation  occupied  the  first  circle.     1  hey  sat 


if 


...•yb»> 


^'Ni#%iflC.«' 


224 


HAVEnillLL. 


11  i*s;   ,^ 


at  some  four  feet  distance  from  each  other.    The  diamefPr 
of  th,s  crcle  m,ght  have  been  four  or  five  reds     Thenllt 

for  precedency  was  guarded  with  as  much  care  and  Tell 
ousy  as  ,, .,  ,„,„g  ^j^^  ^  nobility     Without  the^cii 

old  won  en— I  have  seen  pleasanter,  were  busvkinfllln«^^ 

bun's  ll^o  thon"'  m-  W^ble!  we"e  cutn"|  a' 
rations  for  hi  .^^"^'  ^''''  ^^''I'^S^'  Such  were  the  prepa- 
rations  for  the  amusements  of  the  morning!  amusements 
go  up,  too,  for  dur  especial  benefit.    How  I  shudder  when 

to  Sit  down  "  n"*^  'r\'""r.  "'^^^^'  ^"d  "^^de  a  sign  for  us 
throw  a  spear,  we  threw  ours  the  far  host     vLT\^° 

^eotraK;XShtL^;l-^fe,»»- 

*  Yonondio.  the  French.  t  Corlaer,  the  English, 


''•^-iKii.tii»-. 


ve  ;  so  are 


UA.TERHILL. 


225 


wisdom  against  the  wisdom  of  Corlacr,  it  was  a  crow  set- 
S^g  Uswit^gainBt  a  sparrow.    We  tried  our  strength  agams 
his? ask  tlie  wolf  which  was  the  strongest?    See  ^le  has 
a  bone  in  his  mouth-it  is  the  thigh-bone  ot   Corlaer ! 

Brothers,  I  sneak  true. 

"  Brothers  we  remembered  that  we  were  the  strongest, 
but  we  remembered  that  while  we  were  provmg  ourselves 
the  strongest,  many  of  our  brothers  laid  do^"' ""«.  "^^J 
rose  agaim  Our  women  have  never  ceased  to  P"t  "s  »« 
mind  tf  it.  '  They  sleep  unrevengcd/  said  our  women. 
Brothers,  our  women  spoke  the  words  ot  truth. 

»  Brothers,  we  joined  Yonondio  to  be  revenged  on  Cor- 
laer  We  shall  be  revenged.  Look,  brothers,  we  have 
nrl  oners.  Our  women  have  fixed  a  stake  very  strong  in 
KTanh  and  see,  they  have  brought  together  the  dr^ 
branches  of  the  hickory,  and  the  pine,  and  the  oak.    It  will 

^'^Brothers,  shall  we  be  revenged  on  Corlaer?  we  shall. 

'  ^tXlZ'^^ll^^^Xme^  his  blanket  aroundhim 
and  sat  down,  without  venturing  a  glance  upon  his  silent 

^"Another  warrior  rose,  and  indulged  in  a  similar  recapitu. 
lation  of  iniuries.    His  was  a  more  minute  statement  ol 
the  real  oiupposed  wrongs  of  his  people,  and  he  was  evi- 
dentlv  even  mire  subtle  than  his  predecessor     He  painted 
?he  sufferLgs  of  the  women  and  children  when  their  habi- 
ations  were  burnt  by  the  English,  and  themselves  turned 
ou  in  the  midst  of  an  inclement  winter.    Hejipoke  of  the 
Euryhig^places  which  the  EngUshman's  plough  had  turned 
UD  and  the  sacred  ashes  which  had  been  thereby  given  to 
the  winds.    His  speech  produced  a  more  obvious  effect 
than  that  of  the  first  speaker,  and  the  assembly  began  to 
grow  impatient  for  the  performance  of  the  promised  rite 
^Meanwhile,  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  Quebec,  and  a 
lame  number  of  French  officers,  had  collected  to  witness 
he  specrcle.    It  will  be  remembered  by  those  conyer- 
sa^wUh  the  early  history  of  the  French  in  America,  that 
r  eStiori  was  one  they  took  such  delight  in,  that  not  a 
few  were  got  up  at  their  own  special  instance  and  sug- 

^^  NotWng  further  was  wanting  to  rouse  the  Indians  to  the 


*,'-%«i' 


226 


HAVERHIU.. 


proper  degree  of  excitement  but  a  son^,  and  this  we  had 
Mu«,c  has  a  wonderful  effect  on  these  savages;  the  same 
havVton  I  r'"  %r''^  cireumstan^e)  kre  said^o 
ripnrnT?  '"""••„  ^''"^  ^"^-song,  chanted  by  an  expo- 
r  enced  warrior,  will  at  once  and  at  any  time  rouse  all 
Uic  dormant  energies  of  an  Indian.         ^  " 

their  nnr""P"^''^rr'"'l"!*^"''^^  ^^^  rhythmical  appeal  to 
their  passions.     The  whole  band,  the  entire  camn  were 
m  motion  at  once,  and  clamorous  ti  iatiate  leir  vTngeance 
so     WeT'^r  P'-'^'l^^^-J'^y  of  their  being  permi  tefl  odo 
andtllLeS     Tt'  ^^  ^'^'"n  «  ^w  ?eit  of  the  .take, 
motiv    nno   I   ,  ."^""^  "^"^  ^^"'^  ''»«  '"O'nent  when  if  any 
dared      tST '  'T""  "">^  r  ^*^*^'^  P"««"^r«  ^t  was  de^ 
.iited      i  Sh  '*''  r"'  '*'"  ««^«"d«"t-''e  was  first  re- 
jpited.     A  mother,  whose  son  had  fallen  at  the  sieee  of 
petroit,  two  years  before,  came  forward,  and  afler  gfvinJ 
him  two  or  three  sound  knocks  upon  the  head,  by  w^av  of 
paying  his  ransom,  cut  the  thongs  with  which  they  had  se 
cured  his  hinb8,and  he  stood  free  ^ 

^  I!^^u"'"i^'''*'  »""''ther— by  the  soul  of  me,  what  does  the 
ould  body  mane  "  roared  Paddy,  rubbing  the  sporupon 
which  his  new  mistress  had  laid  the  purchas^monev  and 
aughmg  most  heartily-by-the-by,  he  had  never  ceased 
laughing  since  our  capture.-"  And  sure  the  cratur  is  udy 
enough  wid  her  wicked  looks-the  murthersome  ould  soSf 

^ut,  Teddy,  you  are  to  take  no  part  in  yonder  horrid 
spectacle-remember  that  and  be  thankful,"  ST 
K.^o  ^""^  1  m  agreeable  ;-yet  the  strange  ould  body  might 
have  passed  the  affront  to  my  head  and  shouther,  she^S 
And  the  raps  on  my  knuckles  are  nothing  at  all  at  aU  hke 
^he  love-taps  we  get  in  Tipperary." 

The  oldjvoman  grew  anxious  to  carry  away  her  nrnn 
erty ;  and  Teddy  left  us  with  a  hearty  laugh  oTL  hp?  aTj 
apparently  as  happy  as  if  he  had  been  drinking  whK"„ 
an  Irish  shealing.  Uncle  Rufus's  nephew  was  also  liberafed 
to  supply  the  place  of  an  Indian  husband  who  had  fallen  in 
a  recent  domestic  quarrel.  Macgillicuddy,  myS  She 
Huron  were  doomed  to  the  death  of  fire.       ^ 

As  being  first  in  the  scale  of  being,  and  the  one  unon 
whom  they  were  most  desirous  to  glutfhei?  vengeanceT^S 
from  whom  the  courage,  which  done  could  SXem 


■  ■'■^^■.«*JRifc»«''-*(»A,,t. . 


nAV^RHILL. 


227 


sport,  was  most  expected,  they  led  the  Indian  warrior  to 
the  pile.     His  conduct  on  this  occasion  afforded  another 
proof  of  what  precept  and  cxam[)le  may  do,  when  acting 
upon  indomitable  pride  and  a  wild  spirit  of  chivalry.     Not 
a  muscle  of  his  face  was  relaxed  ;  his  demeanour  was  as 
calm  as  if  he  had  been  about  the  ordinary  avocations  of 
peace.     In  the  midst  of  tortures,  which  were  refinements 
on  the  barbarities  of  Sergius  and  Procopius,  and  the  inqui- 
sitions of  Spain  and  Goa,  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  was  seen 
to  move  involuntarily.     lie  sung  his  boastful  war-song,  in 
which  he  recounted  the  brave  actions  he  had  performed  at 
the  expense  of  his  captors,  the  stratagems  by  which  he  had 
surprised  and  destroyed  them — the  barbarous  methods  by 
which  he   had  put  his  prisoners  to  death,  in  tones  as 
steady  and  full  as  if  he  had  been  paying  a  tribute  to  the 
beauty  of  his  mistress.     The  inflexions  of  his  voice  were  as 
numerous  and  as  easily  noted  as  ever,  and  the  roll  of  his 
eye  was  as  steady  and  undisturbed. 
The  following  is  a  literal  translation  of  his  death-song : 

THE  LITTLE  FOX'S  DEATH-SONG. 

•♦  Down  I  took  my  spear — my  tough  spear ; 
Down  I  took  my  bow — my  good  bow  ; 
Fill'd  my  quiver  with  sharp  arrowi, 
Slung  my  hatchet  to  my  shoulder, 
Forth  I  wandor'd  to  the  v.  Id  wood. 
Who  comes  yonder  ?  * 

Ha  !  I  know  him  by  his  feather — 
Leader  of  the  Iroquoise. 
And  he  comes  to  dip  that  feather 
In  a  vanquished  Huron's  blood. 

'«  Then  I  pois'd  my  tough  ash  spear  ; 
Tken  I  bent  my  pride  of  bows  ; 
«  From  my  quiver  drew  an  arrow, — • 

Raifl'd  my  war-cry  ; — ha  !  he  falls. 
From  his  crest  I  took  the  feather  ; 
From  his  crown  1  tore  the  scalp-lock. 
Shout  his  friends  their  cry  of  vengeance  ! 
What  avails  it  ?     Are  they  eagles  ? 
Naught  else  can  o'ertak*  the  Huron. 

*«  Why  should  I  fear  to  die  ? 
I  never  told  a  lie  : 

Kind  have  I  been  to  father  and  to  mother> 
I  never  turned  my  bask  upon  a  foe. 
»     '  I  slew  my  people's  enemies- 

Why  should  I  fear  to  die  ? 

*       .^ 


niw- 


rg-,i»iiw«  11  mi"'ini.ji»>i 


J 


/* 


;1 


228  HAVERHILL. 

Kindle,  then,  your  flames  around  me  ; 
Tear  the  flesh  with  heated  pincera, 
Probe  me  with  a  burning  arrow  ; 
I  can  teach  a  coward  Mohawk 
How  a  valiant  man  should  die." 

The  horrors  which  followed  the  proclamation  of  the 
wrongs  he  had  done  them  are  too  revolting  to  paint;  Not 
the  plucking  out  of  his  nails,  searing  hi»  eyeballs,  tearing 

1)ieces  out  of  his  body  with  red-hot  pincers,  could  force  a 
engthened  respiration  from  him.  Meanwhile  he  continued 
his  death-song,  with  a  countenance  steady  and  calm  as  in 
the  ordinary  transactions  of  life.  I  stood  for  a  considera- 
ble part  of  the  time  within  five  or  six  feet — as  near  as  the 
fire  would  let  me  be,  of  him,  and  I  am  sure  1  should  have 
evinced  less  fortitude  at  the  drawing  of  one  oifmy  teeth  by 
an  unskilful  dentist  than  he  did  at  torments  which  the  in 
genuity  of  a  host  of  fiends  would  have  been  at  a  loss  tc 
parallel. 

They  subjected  Donald  to  very  little  torture,  for  he  bel 
lowed  Uke  a  bull  at  the  first  touch  of  the  flame ;  after  whicl 
unmanly  exhibition  of  weakness,  they  considered  him  un 
worthy  of  further  notice,  and  gave  him  up  to  the  wome? 
and  boys.     These  diverted  themselves  with  the  haple 
Scotchman  for  a  few  minutes,  but  there  being  nothing  ht 
roic  in  his  behaviour  to  stimulate  them,  and  no  whet  t 
their  cruelty,  for  he  uttered  neither  taunts  nor  reproaches, 
they  grew  weary  of  him,  and  soon  despatched  him :  happy 
Donald  I 

The  day  was  now  near  its  close,  and  having  had  sufli 
cient  sport  for  that  time,  they  concluded  to  defer  my  share 
of  the  exhibition  till  the  morrow.  I  was  carried  back  tc 
the  cabin  from  which  I  had  been  taken  in  the  morping,  the 
guard  resumed  its  care  of  me,  and  victuals  was  broiight  me 
— ^this  time  not  in  a  sufficient  quantity  to  enable  me  to  make 
a  full  meal,  but  enough  to  keep  me  from  starving.  They 
then  left  me  to  repose — such  repose  as  may  be  taken  by 
one  who  has  witnessed  a  spectacle  like  that  I  have  de- 
scribed, anci  knows  that  with  another  sun  he  will  become 
the  subject  of  a  similar  practice  and  catastrophe. 


KND   op  VOL.  I. 


ndme; 

cera, 

iw; 


proclamation  of  the 
olting  to  paint;  Not 
hig  eyeballs,  tearing 
incers,  could  force  a 
mwhile  he  continued 
eady  and  calm  as  in 
ood  for  a  considera- 
feet — as  near  as  the 
I  sure  I  should  have 
•f  one  of  my  teeth  by 
ments  which  the  in 
^e  been  at  a  loss  tc 

e  torture,  for  he  bel 
aflame;  after whicl 
considered  him  un 
n  up  to  the  wome? 
es  with  the  haple 
:e  being  nothing  ht 
!m,  and  no  whet  t 
jnts  nor  reproaches, 
)atched  him :  happy 

id  having  had  suffi 
id  to  defer  my  shart 
vas  carried  back  tc 
I  in  the  morning,  the 
jals  was  brought  me 
3  enable  me  to  make 
)m  starving.  They 
as  may  be  taken  by 
like  that  I  have  de- 
sun  he  will  become 
tastrophe. 


\ 


-e 


